Of Wizards and Detectives
by Ariana.W.F
Summary: Curious things were happening around Sherlock Holmes and John Watson since the latest visit of the elder Holmes brother at Baker Street. The newest case is proving to be something that even the Consulting Detective wouldn't expect... (Post-Reichenbach, Around 15 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Epilogue-compliant, Canon pairings)
1. Chapter 1

**First 15 chapters are now corrected thanks to Zarathustra46. I will reupload the rest when I get through the evil 16th one (ok, it's not evil, I am just exaggerating) and make slight changes, so it can finally be correct. Have a nice reading everyone :) **

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**CHAPTER 1**

"You really shouldn't say things like that," said John on their way back home. "One day Anderson will snap and who knows what he will do then."

Sherlock scoffed, "He is so incompetent that I wouldn't be surprised if in his attempt to actually _do_ something, he would just kill himself accidentally. Not that it would be necessarily a bad thing." He sounded almost happy saying that.

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying you're not right," he paused, "... well except for the part where you want him to kill himself..."

Sherlock scoffed again. "Please, this was at most a five. It just gives a new meaning to the idiocy of Scotland Yard. Even you caught up with what was going on!"

John raised his eyebrows and shot Sherlock the 'I-am-not-amused' look.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" replied the taller man.

John sighed and decided to change the subject, "Anyway, what do you think I should call my blog entry? I am struggling with the title."

"I am sure you will think of something poetic and absolutely ridiculous in no time, John. I doubt you need my help with that."

"Oh shut up," grumbled John. "I shall call it 'The Consulting Detective's Guide to Dealing with Gratitude' then... oh, it was just precious when you proved she couldn't have anything to do with the murder... and her daughter... I mean, awww, Sherlock!"

"You wouldn't dare!" glared the consulting detective.

"Watch me!" replied John. "And I will describe every single detail!"

They reached Baker Street in the midst of their squabbling, which was stopped short when they needed to pay the cabbie (and really, did he need to look so happy to have them out of his car?).

"Oh for God's sake!" groaned Sherlock. "What now?!"

John turned around, prepared to ask what it was this time, when his eyes fell on a sleek black car parking next to their house. Well, at least that answered it.

"What do you think he wants?" he asked instead.

"What else but to annoy me?" retorted Sherlock and opened the door. "MRS HUD-" he tried to shout but John was quicker, he clamped his hand over his friend's mouth and hissed, "It's almost midnight, Sherlock! Shut up!"

The taller man glared, but complied, assuming that waking up their landlady at this hour was 'a bit not good'.

John waited anxiously for a few moments to see if the ruckus woke Mrs. Hudson up. Thankfully nothing stirred and he finally let go of Sherlock.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked as they were climbing up the stairs to their domain.

"I wanted to ask why she thought letting Mycroft in was a good idea," he said, "Oh, I hope that at least he waited for long and was bored out of his mind!" Suddenly he stopped in a mid-step. "John! He was there unsupervised for God knows how long! We must find out what he has done to the flat!" And he took the rest of the stairs running.

"I sincerely doubt it can be worse than whatever you might do," said John and trotted behind his friend.

"Not that!" growled Sherlock. "The bugs! We will never get rid of them!"

"Ooh... right," nodded John. It was not impossible for Mycroft to use the time he spent in the flat to increase his surveillance – actually it was more than probable.

Sherlock banged the door open, probably hoping to catch his brother doing something that would give him the grounds to complain (which, let's admit, it was almost everything his brother ever did) – but Mycroft was just sitting on the chair waiting for them patiently. At the noise he quirked his eyebrow and said dryly, "Brother, have you ever heard of the term 'disturbing the peace'? - It surprisingly _can_ get one in trouble."

"Not even bothering with 'hello', you just skipped to threatening me... Want to set a record?" answered Sherlock and plopped himself into a chair.

John just closed the door and rolled his eyes at their antics. "And he is not even playing the violin yet," he quipped, feeling the need to point out Sherlock's habit to play (read screech) during the night. "Hello, Mycroft."

"John," the older Holmes inclined his head in greeting but didn't take his eyes off Sherlock.

"This is boring. Did you only come to lecture me, Mycroft? I just finished a case, so off you go if you please," said Sherlock in falsely nice voice.

"Ah, yes, the case," nodded Mycroft and to Sherlock's dismay did not move an inch. "It took you a surprisingly long time, brother. I expected you home earlier. Was it so difficult to solve, or were you just... distracted after the actual problem was solved?"

John snickered.

"Shut up," growled Sherlock. "Both of you!" However, neither of them listened.

"You should have been there, Mycroft," said John. "He actually looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him."

Mycroft sighed, "I will forever regret not witnessing it firsthand, but as it is, I shall do with surveillance photos. I hope you don't mind, brother, but I am going to send one of those to Mummy."

"I happen to know a very good Pathologist," threatened Sherlock glaring daggers at his elder brother. "Between the two of us, they will never find your body."

Mycroft just rolled eyes at the childish behaviour.

"So," said John suddenly, "What brought you here? I am guessing it's not only the opportunity to tease your brother."

"An astute deduction, John," replied Mycroft. "That must definitely be Sherlock's influence showing... I have a case for you." He watched his brother carefully for any reaction.

Sherlock stayed impassive. Of course Mycroft would bring some inane matter of the government that needed far more legwork that he was willing to invest... again. Why did John have the need to ask stupid questions like that? "No," he finally answered. "I _appreciate_ your offer Mycroft, but I have enough _interesting_ cases. You may go now." He made a shooing gesture with his hand.

"I think you might want to reconsider that, brother dear," said Mycroft, standing up. "You may find out that the person I will bring here can, let's just say... broaden your horizons. I guarantee that you won't find this case boring at all. I will be back tomorrow. That's when he is supposed to return from his assignment. Goodnight, John... Sherlock. It was a pleasure visiting, as always."

And with those last cryptic sentences he was out of the Baker Street flat.

"Okay..." said John slowly, "what was that?"

Sherlock blinked. Mycroft trying to be enigmatic about a case he is bringing was something new. "I haven't the faintest," he admitted, "but I am intrigued."

"Oh well," shrugged John, "we will see tomorrow. I am going to bed. It was a long day. Night, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded absentmindedly, already going over the brief meeting with Mycroft in his head, dissecting it to pieces in an attempt to figure out just whom might his brother bring tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much for reading, for all the follows and faves and for the absolutely lovely reviews**

**(Sarah) I am so glad you enjoyed it. **

**(Nataly SkyPot) Thank you!**

**(Brynchilla) What a wonderful image! I'm so disappointed in myself for not doing something like that. I just can imagine Sherlock's face if that happened... and John's :)**

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**CHAPTER 2 **

The next morning Mycroft sent a text specifying the time he would arrive at Baker Street. John wasn't even sure if the flat would be still standing by then. Sherlock seemed to be extremely frustrated. Apparently he still had no idea who the mysterious guest, or rather client (Mycroft did say it's a case, didn't he?) might be. The only thing the consulting detective was certain about was the fact that it was no ordinary lackey of his brother – that was repeated to John at least three times since the message arrived.

The doctor sighed and prayed for some sort of distraction, because really, what did Sherlock expect? To find the name of his brother's associate from the way Mycroft had been holding his umbrella or his occupation from Mycroft's intonation? (Knowing his friend, it might have been just that.)

Obviously someone was listening, because Sherlock just got a message. He quickly scanned the text.

"It's Lestrade. He wants us at Bart's. Didn't say anything else," he informed John.

"Are we going? We might miss Mycroft if it takes too long," asked the doctor. "Wait... isn't that weird? Why wouldn't he tell you any details?"

Sherlock was already getting on his coat. "We are going to find out, aren't we?" Then he was out of the door and John, grabbing his jacket, hurried after him.

One cab ride later they found themselves in the hospital; more specifically in the morgue.

Lestrade was waiting for them, as was Molly and Mike Stamford.

_Stamford: slight narrowed eyes – mouth set in a thin line – does this when frustrated – glancing at Molly – has to do with work, not private life. Molly: nervous, not because of my presence – fidgeting – holding a pen – stained her fingers – was writing – most probably finishing paperwork on latest autopsy - Stamford's presence not usually required – she called him down – something unusual occurred – anxious – thinking she missed something. Lestrade: not his usual DI attire – was not at work when body found – not called in later to investigate either – not one of his murder cases then – why here? – known the dead: unlikely, not feeling sorrow – visiting Molly: improbable, reconciled with wife (again), not seeking relationship – curiosity about body?: possible (unless additional data require a change going with this hypothesis) – might know similar older occurrence – called me in – thinks it might lead to something – how found out if not in work? – Molly/call from colleague/other source (clarification needed – though Molly most likely) – Stamford unlikely, found out just now –_ _Conclusion_ _– it's not classified as a murder, but something is wrong with the cadaver. Lestrade most likely to provide answers for further analysis._ "Well?" asked Sherlock, "what's wrong with the body? And what brought you down here, Lestrade, if it's not a case?"

Everyone looked at him.

"What do you mean, 'not a case'?" asked John. "Why else would Lestrade call us?"

"Actually, John," admitted the Inspector guiltily, "it's not. At least not yet, though I am hoping Sherlock will see something... well... anything, actually."

The detective frowned, and turned to Molly, "What was the cause of death?" She reddened and averted her eyes, obviously struggling with the answer. "Well?!" he demanded after giving her a few moments (he was being very generous in his opinion) to stammer some kind of reply.

"I-I don't know," she cried suddenly. In her frustration she balled her hands to fists. "I have no idea! How can I _not_ know? I am a pathologist, I am _supposed_ to know!"

Sherlock was surprised by her outburst, but even more so by what exactly her words meant. He knew her to be very competent and very thorough... that is why he worked with her.

"You mean," said John gently, trying to soothe the girl, "that the cause is ambiguous, and you need other opinion, don't you? Don't worry about it, Molly, that happens. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"That's not it!" snapped Molly. Then her eyes widened, "I am so sorry, John. I didn't mean to be so rude. But this is so... so... I don't know. Something like this is not supposed to happen!"

"What Molly meant to say," interjected Mike, "is that the man should be happily going about with his life right now and not lying on the slab in the morgue."

"I don't understand," admitted John.

"I can't find the cause of death," said Molly with grimace. "Because there is _no_ cause of death. It's like he just decided to drop dead because he fancied it."

"That's not possible, Molly," said John. Sherlock's mind was racing, he stayed quiet but was absorbing everything that was said.

"Molly requested every test that is possible at this hospital to be made," Mike shrugged. "And we both checked the body... extremely carefully, trust me. There is nothing there. And the results that came back didn't show anything either."

"No untreated illness, sudden heart attack, stroke or something like that. He didn't take medication of any kind. There were no traces of drugs, or poison. He wasn't shot or stabbed or strangled, nor did he drown. There. Is. Nothing. At. All," clarified Molly unhappily.

"Can we see the body?" asked Sherlock, finally snapping into the action.

"Of course," said Mike and the whole procession moved to the slab where the mysterious cadaver was. "I will be needed upstairs soon, but I am very interested to hear what you think."

"You know, Sherlock," started Lestrade, "I am really hoping you will find something. You may even call us idiots and I wouldn't care."

"Why are you here, Detective Inspector?" asked Sherlock, carefully inspecting every minute detail on the body.

"Believe it or not," he answered, "this is something I am interested in... have been for a long time actually. This is not the first time a body like this showed up. It's not very often that it happens. I believe that the most cases like that were in late nineties... ninety-seven and eight were the worst, I believe. That was about the time this caught my attention. I haven't heard of one in ages though. Of course most of my colleagues think that I should just leave it... those bodies are never proved to be a murder and therefore have nothing to do with my division. But it's all suspicious, isn't it?"

"Only the nineties?" asked Sherlock glaring at the dead man as if he offended him.

Lestrade shook his head, "No, as I said there was a slew of bodies like this at that time, but that doesn't mean that they didn't show up before that or after. And in various places of the country no less, not just London – they are not connected as far as I know. The time is also not a factor... I remember reading an old newspaper clipping from some village... it was during the Second World War. A family of three died and the doctors were absolutely baffled. What is curious is that at first the gardener of the family was blamed, but it was never proven... he died in the nineties – as with the family, no cause was ever found. You must understand, yes, he was old and had various health problems, but according to the reports not a single one of them was the reason he was lying dead in that old abandoned house."

"Do you get something?" asked John of his companion, glancing curiously at the body. His interest was certainly peaked.

Sherlock ruffled his hair in frustration. "He was a heavy smoker, obviously cared about his appearance... was well-off... not married. Indulged in drinking occasionally." He bent down to sniff the man's mouth. "... _was_ actually drinking right before he died, but not nearly enough to be drunk, not more than one glass of red wine. That's all _useless_," he growled, turned to Lestrade, and looked at him accusingly, "I would get more if I saw him where he was found. Why didn't you call me then?" He absolutely refused to verbalize the fact that, just like the others, he simply couldn't find out how he died.

The Inspector shrugged apologetically. "We don't have anything to do with this. It was Molly who called me – she knows I am interested, otherwise I wouldn't know."

"To be completely honest," added Molly, "I thought that Greg was exaggerating when he mentioned these occurrences, but promised him I would keep an eye out for something like that... never expected to actually have it here."

"Are there _no_ medical papers about this?" asked John. "I can't believe no one would write about it."

"You know there are not," said Molly. "I would certainly read something like that. And I have no doubt it would catch your attention too."

John nodded... it was true. He sometimes browsed through the online papers and read some that were not even related to his area of expertise, but simply sounded interesting. _This_ certainly _was_ interesting.

"That's another thing," said Lestrade. "It's rare for this to get out, to newspapers I mean – the family I told you about was one of those. Also when I said it's not the Yard's problem I didn't mean there is no investigation. There is. Though kept very low-key... And it's always held by A-" suddenly the door of the morgue opened and someone strode in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all your support - I cannot believe so many of you decided to read this story, to follow or fav it,**

**Sarah, Nataly Sky-Pot, High Reacher, Lourdes08, thank you all so much for the lovely reviews... I am so glad you enjoyed it so far :)**

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**CHAPTER 3**

"Er... hi?" the man was obviously startled that he found so many people in the room.

He was tall, even taller than Sherlock and had shockingly red hair. He could have been around thirty. His blue eyes were scanning the room carefully.

But another set of eyes was scanning the man... _Wedding band – at least one child – had row this morning with wife – left arm injured recently – line of work: military? – not quite – police force? – no (find out more) – not comfortable in his clothes – not used to formal – used only to casual clothing? – improbable – must have some kind of uniform for work – on official business here – why not wear it?..._

When no one reacted, the man cleared his throat nervously (and thus halted Sherlock's invisible assessment) and took out a slip of paper – _no, parchment?!_ out of his pocket. "Um... I need to speak to He- I mean Doctor Molly Hooper?"

"T-that's me," squeaked Molly and gave a little awkward wave. "What can I do for you?"

"Excuse me," interrupted Mike before the man opened his mouth to reply, "but do you have authorization to be here?"

"Er... yes," nodded the man, "I think so, yes. Who are you?" He started searching his pockets – his hands were full of weirdest things (also it was noticeably _more_ things that one could think can get into the pockets), like colourful candies and a quill, some more parchment, a mirror, bottle of ink...

"Mike Stamford. The Head of this Department." Mike glared at the man and tapped his foot impatiently. "I need to ask you to leave if you don't have the authorization."

"No, no... I have it," said the man distractedly. "Aha!" he shouted in triumph and took out a slightly crumpled piece of paper (..._not a parchment this time! – an afterthought – volunteered to go here despite not being used to this – eyes darting around – curiosity – never seen a mortuary before_...), handing it to Mike. "I am sorry, I was not expecting so many people, you see... umm is it always so... crowded?"

"It seems to be all right," murmured Mike, obviously disappointed he could not throw him out now. "Okay," he handed the paper back. "Well, I shall be going upstairs. Please keep me updated about the _situation_." And with those parting words (and a parting glare at the intruder) he left.

John meanwhile answered the man's question, "Usually there is no one here; well, except for the pathologist, obviously... but we were just in the middle of some _research_ right now... and it needed a broader audience."

"Yes," added Sherlock, "so state your business, quickly would be preferable, and leave."

The man blinked at the detective.

"Well, how can I help you?" asked Molly again before the man decided to tell Sherlock to sod off.

"Right," he focused his attention back on her. "I was told there was a body of –" he again glanced at the parchment that had Molly's name on it – "Charles Augustus Milverton here. Is that correct?"

Molly's eyes widened. "He is here," she nodded slowly.

"Can I see him?" asked the man patiently.

"Well, of course," said Molly hesitantly. She gestured at the body they were all huddled around. "This is Charles Augustus Milverton."

John and Lestrade narrowed their eyes and were watching the man. Why was he here? The Inspector had his suspicion, but decided not to say anything yet.

Sherlock made a grimace and blurted out, "_That_ is Charles Augustus Milverton?! Why didn't anyone bother to tell me?"

That halted all movement and all eyes snapped to the consulting detective.

"You know him?" asked Lestrade.

"Obviously," snapped Sherlock. "You mean you don't?"

"You didn't recognize him though," said the Inspector defensively.

"I never _met_ him," replied Sherlock. "But surely you've heard about him. Professional blackmailer. No one was quite as good as him. He had no mercy. Once he got his clutches on someone's secret he waited for the most opportune moment, sometimes even for years – until he was sure the blow would make the person crumble. Then he either drained them until there was nothing left, or he let the secret out, but the result was always the same. When he finished, his victim was utterly destroyed. It was not unusual of them to commit suicide at that point. Of course, no one ever went to police, for they were either threatened or not exactly innocent citizens themselves, so that might be blamed, instead of your usual incompetence, Lestrade. But I must say that I am surprised it took so long for him to be found dead, with the line of work he had." But here Sherlock was at loss... people like Milverton _didn't_ die a natural death (not that there was anything natural about this)... but _how_ was it done?

"God..." muttered John horrified.

"A blackmailer you say?" asked the red-headed man with interest. "Do you know anything else about him?"

"Why _should_ I tell you?" asked Sherlock scathingly.

"Who are you anyway?" asked Molly. "You didn't even introduce yourself."

"Oh, right," the man's ears reddened in embarrassment. "I guess I forgot. I'm Ronald Weasley and –" then his eyes fell on the uncovered body of Milverton – "BLIMEY!" he shouted, eyes wide as saucers. "What happened to him?"

All the eyes fell on the dead man. There was absolutely _nothing_ out of ordinary... well, except for the fact that the man should _not_ be dead. They were all puzzled. Did Weasley see something they _all_ (even Sherlock!) missed?

"Bloody hell!" cursed the red-head. "I thought he was... we must have been misinformed. I guess the cause of death is obvious, right?"

"It is?" asked Molly baffled.

"Well, yes," he gestured at the body wildly. "If that wouldn't cause the death, then I don't know what would."

They all blinked at the body again.

John hazarded a guess, "Are you talking about the... Y section?"

"Call it whatever you like," said Weasley still eyeing the cadaver.

"That was done... post mortem," said Molly slowly. _Who_ doesn't know this? He was in the morgue for God's sake.

The man seemed startled. "You mean it was done _here_?" his voice was slightly high-pitched. "You actually cut dead people in Mu- here?" His hand went through his hair. "Blimey," he said again. "And I thought I could handle this without a hitch, having Hermione and all that. Thought I knew enough about... well... stuff. But obviously, we never discussed... this."

"Who _exactly_ are you?" asked Sherlock.

"Ron Weasley, as I said. I am with the..."

"Auror Department," interjected Lestrade.

"Yeah," nodded Weasley. "How do you know?"

"It's always someone from Auror Department that comes in cases like this," he said.

"Cases like this?" echoed the red-head.

"Yes," replied the Inspector. "When there are bodies, that shouldn't be bodies at all according to medical findings. They come to ask questions; sometimes they take the body as well."

"Er," started the man, "yes, well... yeah, among other things, we investigate those too." Now he addressed to everyone, especially Sherlock who seemed to have known about the man, "I would appreciate your cooperation. I just need details about the man. I promise not to bother you for long." He turned to Molly, "Doctor Hooper, may I talk to you first? I understand that you were the doctor responsible for examining the dead?" he sneaked another quick uneasy glance at the body, but managed to smile charmingly at the pathologist.

As they were preoccupied, the remaining three men grouped together.

"The hell is Auror Department?" whispered John.

Lestrade shrugged hopelessly and tried to explain in equally quiet voice, "It's all very hush-hush. Most people never even hear about it. They are involved in some things, like accidents or maybe gas leaks, but we all –" he gestured at his companions and himself – "know what _that_ means. Not all though, just selected ones – like they were never involved in the Moriarty bombing business for example, and we know that it was top priority at that moment. Then there are of course those mysterious deaths popping occasionally. They are definitely not Yarders, but I can say that they are some kind of official investigators, but for whom they work and where they came from, I have no idea."

Meanwhile the man obviously finished with Molly, because he beckoned the Inspector to his corner. They didn't talk for long, but enough for Molly to recount their conversation to John and Sherlock. "He didn't ask about the autopsy at all, would you believe that? All he wanted to know was how he can find out who came into contact with the man since his death, as he would need their statements too. Then he asked if I knew about the man's business at all. When I said no, he dismissed me."

The Inspector returned. It was Sherlock's turn now. That however took even less time. The man opened his mouth to ask something, when Sherlock in a clear voice for everyone to hear said, "Your wife is not happy about you working right now, she argued with you about it, but you dismissed it and went back right after injury, but took something considered an 'easy job' to appease her. Being here clearly makes you uncomfortable and you lack common knowledge, which makes you either extremely idiotic or totally obvious. Yet you're giving off an aura of professional, no matter how incompetent, so you don't consider yourself stupid, but then not a single idiot does, Anderson can attest to that..."

The man's ears reddened and he was glaring at Sherlock. His right hand twitched, but soon he controlled himself. "What in the bloody hell!" he took a deep breath... and another one. "Right," he said through the clenched teeth. "Well, I think I am finished here anyway. If you will excuse me..." With that he turned away from them (from behind, his neck was as dangerously red as his ears), and left without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again thank you for reading. The follows and faves made me terribly happy, as did the reviews, thank you for those:**

**(Lourdes08) I know - Ron was so out of his comfort zone :/ I am glad you liked the chapter :)  
****(Sarah) Thank you. Hope this chapter won't disappoint.**

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**CHAPTER 4**

"Hurry, John!" Sherlock was about to bolt out of the room and follow the man.

John expected this, though why Sherlock couldn't have waited and let the man finish his work and let him leave in peace, he didn't know. Well, he didn't piss anyone off for a few hours now, so it was probably bound to happen sooner or later...

"Oh, honestly John, stop thinking, please," said Sherlock. "I want to know where he is going. They are obviously careful about it; otherwise Lestrade would sniff it out somehow. It was easy to figure out what would provoke him. The man was still upset over the fight he had. Yes, before you ask, he did have one – his tie is not tied right, no one pointed that out to him and certainly _not_ his wife. Why would she do that? She was upset. Also later when he spoke of 'having Hermione', which I presume_ is _the wife, he did so in an admiring voice, which means he holds her opinion (and knowledge) in high regard, but _also_ had slightly guilty expression on his face, which means he is aware _he _was the one in fault. He decided to come to work despite being injured – you must have noticed he held his left arm stiffly and barely moved it. If she likes him at least a bit she wouldn't want him to go to work before he properly recovered... can we move on _now_? He will be steaming in anger, won't be paying attention to his surroundings. It will make things easier for us. He will lead us straight to those 'Aurors', whoever they are." With that he left the morgue.

"Well," said John hurriedly to Lestrade and Molly, "need to run, or he will leave me here! Bye! Will call you, if anything new arises!" Suddenly the army doctor was gone too.

"So," said Lestrade, after they both recovered from what just happened, "I should be going too. Thanks for letting me know, Molly. I appreciate it."

"Oh, you're welcome," replied the pathologist. "It was certainly interesting. And I hope we will get at the bottom of this. Sorry for not believing you though."

"That's okay," shrugged the Detective Inspector. "Maybe it's just a wild-goose chase and it's nothing after all."

"But what do _you_ think is going on?" asked Molly.

"I know I have no idea," said the Inspector and left with a parting nod.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sherlock and John followed the red-headed man. As the detective predicted, he was stomping angrily, muttering to himself. But they kept their distance, just in case.

He just left the building and to Sherlock's surprise, his steps led him to a corner right near to hospital which the detective knew for sure was a dead-end. The man rounded the corner and suddenly a faint crack echoed around. No one noticed though, people weren't paying attention. But Sherlock and John looked at each other and broke into a run, because it was from the direction of the man the sound was heard.

They reached the corner – no one was there.

"What the hell?" shouted John, summing up their thoughts quite nicely. "What happened, Sherlock? This," he waved around, "shouldn't be possible. Where did he go? He just disappeared."

"Shut up!" snapped Sherlock, his eyes trying and failing to find out any clue in the enclosed area. For a moment he stood rooted to the place. The doctor hoped that he could think of some explanation, because he certainly was out of... "We should go," exclaimed Sherlock suddenly, halting John's thoughts.

"Sherlock?"

"We're going back home." The detective strode towards the road and hailed the first cab in sight.

"But what about Weasley? And Aurors?" asked John.

"I have nothing to follow," admitted Sherlock, though it obviously pained him to do so. "And there is only one person who can get me some information – no one knows about Aurors, undoubtedly _he_ will be involved."

John understood immediately.

* * *

Upon entering Baker Street, they were greeted by Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock, you have a guest upstairs!" she said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," replied Sherlock and went up.

"Can we have some of those delicious smelling biscuits, Mrs Hudson?" asked John hopefully, inhaling the tantalizing scent that came from her flat.

"Oh," Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes, "you flatterer. I will bring some, now off you go! But I am not making you tea; I am not your housekeeper."

"Of course, Mrs Hudson," smiled John. "Thank you."

When John entered their flat it was to the clash of two titans trying to kill each other with icy glares (actually, Mycroft's gaze was more of the 'I-am-the-older-sibling-you-will-listen-to-me-and- do-as-I-say' variety, but John only noticed that, because he was at the receiving end of similar glares quite often in the past from his sister)

"Ah, John," said Sherlock, when he noticed him, despite refusing to break the eye contact with his brother. "Mycroft decided to grace us with his presence earlier than intended. Isn't it _nice_ of him?"

"I... see," said John slowly.

"John," said Mycroft in greeting. "I've heard you visited Bart's. Anything interesting?"

"Stop it!" growled Sherlock. "You know what happened. And you know what is going on! Your smug expression is a giveaway. In fact you are so disgustingly... _happy_ about knowing it, that were you someone else, you would be _bouncing_ on that chair you're sitting on."

"Oh, re-ally," drawled Mycroft raising an eyebrow. "I cannot imagine anything that would warrant such behaviour from me," he said.

"Are you going to explain or not?" asked Sherlock.

"All in due time, brother," remarked Mycroft. "I would prefer if you forgot Milverton for just a little moment and paid attention to my little affair. After that you can go and play with your corpse, I promise."

"_I_," started Sherlock, "would however prefer you to tell me what you know about the Auror Department and a man named Ronald Weasley."

Mycroft sighed. "One time," he said exasperated, "one time I try to bring you something extraordinary, something you might not complain about with every breath you take and you mess it up even when you're not really trying."

If John didn't know better he would say that Mycroft was deflated... it was quite as if Sherlock opened his present before it was time. The detective however didn't notice... or ignored it.

"So it was _Milverton's _death you wanted me to investigate? Was me going to Bart's 'messing up'? Or maybe not even his death... just go through his hiding places, no? Is that why you didn't want me to see him? So I can concentrate on _that_, instead of trying to find out _how_ he died?" he asked maliciously. "Your associate, who is he? Was he blackmailed by the man? You want me to once again retrieve some photographs with dubious content?!"

The elder Holmes shrugged, "How Milverton died is really not the problem. His death, however is a gateway for you."

Sherlock frowned. "Theatrics do not suit you, Mycroft – you sound ridiculous. _Gateway_? To where exactly?" John agreed with Sherlock wholeheartedly, Mycroft... didn't sound much like Mycroft at all – maybe he was drunk?

"And as a master of theatrics you would be the best judge, wouldn't you, Sherlock?" retorted Mycroft. "All will be explained, you don't need to worry," he said.

"_All_?" repeated Sherlock, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, of course _not_," Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Milverton's death will still be very much unsolved after our discussion. What would be the point of involving a detective if there was no case to investigate, _right_? But other points that may confuse you now, shall be cleared. My associate is just doing me a favour by coming here." He looked pointedly at Sherlock to drive home how very wrong he was about the subject of the meeting. "All I need from you, before we can continue, is to sign something."

"I am not signing anything!" said Sherlock glaring at the forms his brother got out of his briefcase.

"I'm starting to think that this was a mistake," sighed Mycroft again. "The meeting shall be cancelled then. I am sure my associate will be happy, I plucked him from his return home, I am fairly certain that he would prefer going back to his wife rather than meeting you – but I was afraid that no one else would be able to handle you... being you. Also, I thought you wanted some explanations..."

Sherlock was torn, but John knew what his friend's answer will be. Mycroft held all the cards and that meant yielding and getting his signature on some secrecy papers.

And truly, Sherlock groaned and yanked the forms from his brother's hands.

"What's with all the parchment today?" he remarked as he procured a pen from somewhere and signed one of them with a flourish (and without even reading it! noticed John). Then he handed the other one to the doctor, who unlike Sherlock went through it carefully – but it was just a simple statement that no information gained according to some Acts John never heard about (but then, he didn't care that much about politics) shall be revealed to outside parties. John signed it too.

Right then a ring rang through the silence and they heard Mrs Hudson to usher the person in.

"Splendid," Mycroft clapped his hands, "right on time."

A few minutes went by – something must have kept them – then the doors of the flat opened and a man entered the room. He was holding a tray with biscuits and a bag was hanging on his right wrist. Mrs Hudson was trotting behind him and they were both smiling.

"Honestly young man, you're a guest! It won't do letting you carry trays for the boys like that," she admonished lightly.

"But madam," said the man in a pleasant voice, "it would be very bad manners from me, if I didn't offer to help. It's no problem at all. They look fantastic by the way. I swear, Molly – that's my mother-in-law – is the best cook I know, but those would have no problem whatsoever rivalling her baked goods."

"Oh you," said Mrs Hudson and to the astonishment of two Holmes and one Watson her cheeks coloured slightly. "Now do make yourself comfortable and let me prepare you tea, young man. I will bring it shortly," The man opened mouth to say something, "No, protests. I insist!"

"Thank you, madam," he smiled at her, "if it won't be a problem." After she left, he turned to the men in the room. "Where should I put this?" he asked nodding at the tray in his hands, not able to locate a single empty surface.

"Oh, somewhere on table over here," said John, pushing some papers on the desk out of the way. Then he quickly dragged two chairs from there so they would be able to join the Holmes brothers near the fireplace.

The man put it down and remained standing there quite awkwardly, not really knowing what to do now. He didn't wait long though – Mycroft took the matters into his hands pretty quickly.

"I'm glad you were able to make it," he said. "This is Sherlock Holmes, my brother," he gestured towards the tall dark-haired man, "and this is his companion, Doctor John Watson," this time he waved towards the one who took the chairs.

The stranger smiled at the duo slightly, hoping for a smile in return (got one from the doctor – not such luck from the younger Holmes).

"Brother, John," continued Mycroft (and did his chest just puff out slightly? wondered the doctor), "meet Harry Potter."

"Just Harry is fine, really," said the man as he shook hands with the doctor, who too insisted on first-name basis. When he wanted to repeat the gesture with Sherlock the man didn't move, just scrutinized him silently.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for reading, still adding the story to your favourites and following it and of course for the absolutely fantastic reviews **

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* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" asked the detective with a bored tone after finishing his initial scan. The man was nothing out of the ordinary. _Wears glasses (myopic) – old scar on the forehead – dates to early childhood – peculiar shape – another on his hand (seems like writing – figure what later) – bags under eyes – didn't sleep much in past three days –_ "you returned from abroad and are feeling guilty for not spending enough time with your family – shame on you for bending to Mycroft's will and not going home like you wanted. Your wife is redheaded and you have three children, two boys and a girl – young. You were trained, but not by military force. You also have –"

"Sherlock!"

"What?" he glanced at John who had 'the look' on his face.

"Oh," he probably didn't want him to overwhelm their guest. How dull. If he couldn't stand it, he could leave. Anyone close to Mycroft (_and he is, Mycroft was relaxed – only drops guard around people he trusts explicitly – definitely didn't tense when the man entered_) was his enemy just by association with the overbearing bore.

"Great, Sherlock," said Mycroft rolling his eyes (he found he did that quite often when his little brother was concerned). "Once again..."

But he was interrupted by Harry, who blurted, "Merlin, Mycroft! It is true. Your brother is bloody brilliant! And a git! And talks even faster than Hermione! You didn't exaggerate in slightest."

Mycroft was fighting a smile... Sherlock was gaping (as much as the stoic man could gape), not quite sure what just happened... Harry was watching Sherlock with fascination and grinning broadly... and this all was a lot for John to take in and he started to laugh at the scene in front of him.

It was into the midst of this chaos that Mrs Hudson entered with the tea (for everyone – apparently she changed her mind about that). But left as quickly as she could, not wishing to even know what's going on. Harry Potter was the only one who managed to thank her for the cup he received.

"I hope you don't mind the language, but bloody hell, that was brilliant. How did you figure all that?" asked the man after he got hold on his tea, then munched at one of the biscuits he stole earlier as he awaited the explanation.

"Don't stroke his ego too much," warned Mycroft. "He has enough of that from John." The army doctor bristled at that, but didn't say anything – was it his fault that the insufferable clod still managed to amaze him despite knowing him for years?

Sherlock rolled his eyes and proceeded to explain. "Your bag has a foreign inscription and it's new. Mycroft said you are just returning from some assignment. It must have been abroad. The bag contains gifts for the family – it's see through. It really _isn't_ hard to notice. There is a perfume – clearly for the wife. Doll – the daughter and some kind of kit with illustrations and a plush – that would be for the boys. Doesn't seem like something for teenagers, so younger children. The plush could have been for a girl, but it's a dragon; it's more usual to buy things like that for boys – especially considering the design of the toy. You feel guilty for being away, that's why you're bringing those. It's not something typical of the country you visited, as would be in case of a souvenir, they are simply bribes. Your travelling clothes are well-worn, which points to leaving often. There is a hair caught on your coat – a red hair. It can be a lover, but it isn't, you have a happy marriage, it's the way you caressed your wedding band nervously as if wishing to either be with her or have her here. Then you got a hold of yourself. Sentiment, really. The training is apparent - you are wary of your surroundings, when you entered you scanned the room first. Not out of curiosity but for a threat. Only trained people or people that have a reason to be afraid do that. By your posture and steps I would say you aren't particularly frightened at the moment, though you do not feel comfortable. It is not military training though, because your bearing differs from John's."

"Almost spot on!" exclaimed Harry enthusiastically. Sherlock grimaced. "But I would like to add that I have another boy. He's fifteen (Fifteen?! wondered the doctor looking at the young man), you couldn't _see_ the gift for him, because it's a book that I ordered about a week ago. I am supposed to pick it up today."

"Damn," exclaimed Sherlock, his spirits slightly dampened.

"Don't worry about it," Harry waved his hand dismissively. "I don't think there was a way for you to tell. Consider me utterly astounded."

John meanwhile tried to make some sense out of the man – Mycroft Holmes _genuinely_ _liked_ him (he wouldn't believe it, if he didn't see it... would he even dare to say they are... _friends_?!), then he does not explode after Sherlock's deductions, on the contrary, appreciates them...

"Anyway," said Mycroft, when he felt there was enough of the praise. "Can we proceed? I doubt you want to spend the whole day here, Harry. And I would also like you to keep the positive opinion you seem to have about my brother and the chances of that are negatively correlated to the amount of time one spends in his presence."

Sherlock glared at him once again.

"Right," nodded the man. "So, what do they know?"

"Absolutely nothing about the part I wished you to discuss here today," admitted Mycroft smiling, but then frowned. "However, they encountered Weasley inquiring about an AK body in the morgue today. It's unfortunate, because I don't think Sherlock and Mr Weasley started their acquaintanceship very positively. It might have an influence over the future involvement of my brother in the investigation. But I certainly hope that won't happen." Here he looked questioningly at his associate, as if to make sure he just won't wash his hands of Sherlock after this revelation.

"Who was murdered?" asked Harry. Sherlock frowned... so far his brother presented it as if he wanted him to investigate Milverton's death, but Potter's ignorance over the subject was suspicious…

"Charles Augustus Milverton. Not really someone whom you would like to meet. He is also not that important, no matter what he thought and better off dead," answered Mycroft dismissively. "What is important is the fact that he was not _yours_." He stressed the last word slightly.

"Ah," breathed Harry, understanding dawning on his face, "so the Exemption can finally be used. Can't say I am not relieved they didn't change their mind in meantime. Kingsley notified them that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson _are_ being informed today? I really wish to avoid causing misunderstanding about revealing things to Mu-" he glanced at the duo, "to unconcerned parties."

"Yes, Kingsley did that," nodded Mycroft. "You have no need to worry."

"Figures I would be gone when something like this happens," continued Harry. "So, this Milverton is Ron's investigation?"

Mycroft shrugged. "Probably... wouldn't you be taking over though? To keep an eye on Sherlock – it's in your own interest, of course."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Sherlock and John would have none of that. While it was fascinating to watch the man transform from the kind person who complimented Mrs Hudson and showed gleeful joy over Sherlock's deductions to someone who can discuss how to use murder for their own purposes in such an easy manner, it was time to get some answers.

"Excuse me," interjected John, easily halting the ongoing conversation, "but can you tell us what's going on?"

Sherlock had less tact and glared at the man. "You lack knowledge about the murder. And yet you are here to convince me to take a look at it, which makes involving _me_ more important than the actual case in this situation." Then he turned to his brother. "I refuse to be dragged into some sort of game, Mycroft. I thought I made it clear years ago that you won't degrade me to some government lapdog. So I suggest some explanations are in order."

* * *

**p.s. If you're wondering what was Sherlock going to say before John decided that enough is enough, it was - "You also have quite a standing in society and are used - more like resigned - to be recognised, despite the fact that I and more importantly John, who keeps up with celebrity gossip, ****_didn't_**** recognise you.**


	6. Chapter 6

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And what can I say... poor Sherlock, there is always something :D**

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* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

Harry looked taken aback and Mycroft sported an affronted expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," said their visitor at least. "I really didn't want you to get the wrong impression." It sounded sincere enough to John, but one could not be sure.

"Don't worry about it," said the elder Holmes. "My brother always likes to imagine me as some sort of villain. I fear that because of our association you were thrown into the same category."

Harry raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Well you kind of are.'

John thought that Mycroft rather deserved to be regarded carefully, what with the hobby of kidnapping Sherlock's friends (He once shared stories with Molly and Greg in pub... it was an amusing conversation, though the bartender watched them warily for the whole time and surely must've thought them crazy for trying to one-up each other with their 'Close Encounters of the Mycroft Kind'. Until then he honestly thought that nothing could top the abandoned warehouse story, but Greg proved him wrong. And even if Molly didn't have such an extravagant experience, she was able to share more stories, having quite a few of those meetings during Sherlock's 'absence' – John refused to call it by any other name.) Then there was the whole 'British Government' thing with cameras and missile plans and flights full of dead people. So was it really so unbelievable that they would think that whatever brought those two here was either borderline illegal or at least morally ambiguous – most possibly both _or_ even worse – and they just wanted Sherlock to do their dirty work for them?

"That explanation, if you don't mind," said Sherlock impatiently.

"Right," sighed Harry. "Honestly, I would prefer if you had some sort of a warning..." he glanced at Mycroft, who regained his composure and watched him to struggle with something akin to amusement.

"I could have done that," he admitted freely, "but I rather thought that my brother deserves the surprise. After all, it doesn't happen often, that someone is able to successfully shock him."

"Right," said the man again. Then he sighed. "Guess it will need to work this way. By the way, your sense of humour needs to improve. I don't think it is considered okay being amused by watching others suffer," he accused.

"I don't believe this will cause any suffering to either John or my brother," remarked Mycroft.

That exchange momentarily distracted both inhabitants of Baker Street from the problem at hand. John was in shock (_definitely_! friends there... The British Government has a friend... _unbelievable_). Sherlock was baffled – where did his brother find a man that could _not_ only stand him, but banter with him lightly as well? He wondered briefly how they met and what happened to create such an easy _camaraderie_ (for the lack of better words). It was unheard of! But he dismissed the thought in the favour of the recent mystery.

"You know I was actually talking about myself, right?" clarified Harry. "Okay. Well, you both signed the agreement, didn't you?" he asked seriously.

They nodded.

"Good," he nodded, "that's good." He stalled, but finally took a deep breath and decided to just say it, "Well, the thing is there is a society hidden from the everyday world you know. It consists of witches and wizards. Of course many beings and creatures are also a part of this world, but they are all hidden, because, quite honestly, the exposure would create havoc. Usually only closest non-magical family members and a few key members of your Government are aware of this, but the general public is clueless. I assure you that the secret is guarded carefully. Your brother vouched for you, and it took a lot of effort – but here we are."

Whatever reaction Harry expected, it wasn't Sherlock Holmes and John Watson exchanging a glance and simultaneously bursting out laughing.

"Oh, this is brilliant, Mycroft," said Sherlock in-between the giggles. "Just wonderful... where did you get this actor?" He couldn't believe that _all this_ was just a build-up leading to a practical joke – from Mycroft, no less. He must be getting rusty, because he definitely didn't see this coming. Mycroft – a joke – unbelievable. How did he even miss this – oh, they played their parts excellently. Not a hint of lie visible – he looked at them carefully once again. It was as if they both were absolutely convicted of the truth of Harry Potter's words. But that can't be... surely not...

Meanwhile John added his two cents, "Wherever do you have your pointy hat, Harry? And what about the wand? Do you have one?" Another fit of laughter overwhelmed him. "Oh... oooh... do you use brooms? Shall I borrow one for you from Mrs Hudson?" If anyone asked John yesterday if he could imagine himself at the receiving end of a prank conceived by Mycroft Holmes, he would tell them to get their head checked. Mycroft Holmes was nothing but serious (albeit slightly on the dramatic side) and John sincerely doubted that the word 'fun' was in his dictionary. He probably had torn that page out and burned it in a fiery fire a long time ago. But apparently that was not the case.

Harry Potter looked hopelessly at the elder Holmes, but he just shrugged back, as if to say 'prove it to them'.

The green-eyed man sighed, and glanced at the duo. John still had a huge grin on his face, probably expected them to call the whole charade off. But the younger Holmes brother was watching him intently... He addressed them. "The 'pointy hats' are used very seldom... and they are quite annoying, so I am really glad it's not more often. The broom of your landlady wouldn't work. It needs not only to be specifically charmed, but designed too – we have the broom companies to make those." He took a deep breath, "And as a matter of fact, I _do_ have a wand." He took his trusted holly wand out and before the men reacted, he wordlessly levitated the skull from the mantelpiece right in front of the detective, where the surprised man snatched it from the thin air.


	7. Chapter 7

**As always THANK YOU for the reading, faving, following and reviews :) You're fantastic. **

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**(Guest) I know, that would be logical, and very ****_very_**** convincing. And one can't forget about Mycroft's... er... mycroft-ness for even a moment. They will get a definite proof soon, don't worry.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

Well, at least the laughing died down, thought Harry Potter, while he waited for some kind of reaction from the shell-shocked pair.

When no one said anything, Mycroft stood up. "Well, as entertaining as this is, I need to go. Things will not get done by themselves. Harry, I trust you can wrap it up without my presence."

"But, wait –" started Harry watching the man pleadingly.

He didn't – instead he left the three people in awkward silence.

"Er," started the abandoned man, not really knowing how to get them to react. "I guess I should have expected him to do that, right?" Nothing. "Well... okay," he sighed. "Will you just say something?" he asked, playing with his wand distractedly. "I understand this is weird... finding about magic so suddenly, but..."

That at least got Sherlock Holmes out of his trance. "Magic is _not_ real!" he hissed through clenched teeth, looking at the skull from every angle, trying to disprove this ridiculousness.

"I am afraid it is," said Harry apologetically. "I know this is a lot to take in. I wish your brother foreshadowed it somehow. I'm sure you would have no problem picking it up and at least start suspecting something... so it won't be all dropped at you at once. But then, you saw a body killed by the Avada Kedavra. That _must_ have been suspicious to you."

John was coming out of his shock too. "Ava-what?" He glanced hopelessly at Sherlock, expecting him to tell the man off and kick him and his bloody tricks out of their flat, but he just seemed to be resigned to hearing the lunatic out.

"That's a curse," explained Harry. "It's illegal to use it, of course."

"But _how_ does it kill?" asked Sherlock, latching onto the subject of potential new murder weapon instantly, still clutching the skull.

"It just kills you," shrugged Harry. "No counter-course and the only way to avoid it, is to duck or hide behind something. There is no apparent cause of death. That's why it so easily stirs the attention of Muggles. It's unexplainable for them. Thankfully, the interest always dies down after a while, when they are unable to discover anything that would give them any answers."

"This is completely against logic," insisted Sherlock. "Just waving a stick around and things happen!"

John however was concerned about another part of the explanation. "So say I _believe_ you," he said. "You want to tell me that you have _something_ that can kill instantly, without leaving a trace and you don't even have a proper protection against it?"

"Well, sadly yes," replied Harry quietly. "But John, I believe the Muggles have some gruesome ways to kill people too, as you're aware – which is _not_ to say that the curse is not a horrible thing. It _is_ awful. But just as _all_ Muggles don't go around shooting people, Wizards and Witches don't do that either. And it leaves a trace. We're notified immediately after a spell is used in a Muggle's vicinity. Then an investigation like you're used to follows."

"Not everyone has a gun... or other weapons," protested the doctor, drawn into the debate against his better judgement. "But I bet everyone has those sticks."

"Yes, every witch and wizard has a _wand_," agreed Harry. "But not everyone has the skills and most importantly the desire. The intent with this spell is everything. We're not monsters, John, despite what you might be imagining. I assure you, that we are the same as Muggles."

"Are you?" asked John sceptically, imagining other loons walking around being convinced they are wizards.

Harry shrugged, "We go to school, learn things, get jobs, and have families; it's all quite simple, really, though the magic is added to it. But there is no difference in anything that would matter."

"That is all _nice_," grumbled Sherlock, secretly disappointed that according to this explanation there was no fascinating mystery involved in Milverton's murder. But despite that the idea of magic still didn't settle down. "But it doesn't make magic _logical_." He glared at the skull as if it committed an unspeakable betrayal.

"It really depends on how you look at it," tried to explain Harry. "Trust me, magic has many rules too, it's not all about 'waving a stick around', as you said earlier. But I am not going into the discussion about _how_ it all works with you. Merlin, you would destroy me and _I_ am supposed to be the one who knows more about the subject," he tried to lighten the situation, but it didn't seem to work. "Anyway, what I want to say is – don't let yourself to be limited. If you just look at what is known to Muggles right now, then yes, it seems impossible. But plenty of things you have now would have been thought witchcraft just a hundred years ago. So, why not believe in our kind of magic too? I... heard about you and then read your website and John's too – I understood then why your brother thought you ought to know. And that's why I know that no matter how improbable you think magic is, you _saw_ it and _know_ it's not a trick – you have been inspecting that skull of yours quite thoroughly for the past few minutes – and so would have no problem accepting it, after the initial surprise wears off... Then you will probably go and try to find the answers to the most complex questions." This time his comment was received more positively.

"What's the word you keep using?" asked Sherlock with less hostility now, though the whole concept still rattled him. John knew that stroking the man's genius was a way to get to him. He was only surprised their visitor grasped it so quickly and efficiently. Okay, so maybe he sounded a bit convincing to John too – he didn't waver for once and had an answer ready for any question they asked so far... and why did he need to look so bloody sincere?

"What? A Muggle?" asked Harry. Sherlock nodded. "It's a term used for non-magical people."

"Derogatory?"

"Some may think so. But it's not meant that way," replied Harry without hesitation.

"So it – the magic – how does it works?" asked John deciding to just go with it and ignore the small voice that still tried to convince him that this is just an elaborate hoax. "I mean can everyone do that?"

"Actually, you need to be born with the skill. It cannot be learned otherwise. And it's most probably hereditary," said Harry. "Though children with magic can be born to Muggles – they are called Muggle-borns then. One of my best friends is one and she was interested in this subject some years ago. There is a theory that Muggle-born children have some ancestor down the line who possessed magic and it just got repressed. Of course it can happen in reverse too – when a child without magic is born to magical parents. I honestly don't know more about it, but I am sure Hermione would be delighted to discuss this subject... or any other subject you might be interested in, really..."

"This Hermione," asked Sherlock noticing him to say the name for the second time. _Possibly Weasley's wife considering he knows Weasley_. "You mentioned her before."

"Yeah," admitted Harry. "She is one of my best friends. I met her at Hogwarts. She has a brilliant mind and would be the best person to answer any question you might have. I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough."

"So Hogwarts, that's... a school?" asked John. Despite his decision he still couldn't quite believe it. He was discussing magic... for real. And just when he thought his life cannot get more bizarre.

"Yes, we attend it for seven years – since we're eleven. It's a great place. Though not always the safest, but as I mentioned I made friends for life there," said Harry enthusiastically.

"John, you can find out about the _undoubtedly interesting_ school life of Mr. Potter later, but we really should talk about the case," sneered Sherlock suddenly, not really wanting to be dragged into a dull reminiscence of boring childhood when there were other things to be discussed. He got distracted for a moment, but really who wouldn't in a situation like this? But now, he was once again fully focused on what mattered.

John glared at him, but didn't protest... not that it would have helped him, if he did.

"Ah, yes," nodded Harry. "I'm afraid I won't be much help right now. As you said before, I just arrived from abroad and had no idea there was murder investigation going on. But tomorrow..."

"That's not really what I was going to ask about," Sherlock said, surprising him. John found that surprising too – since when did Sherlock Holmes care about other things when there was murder involved?

"No?" wondered the wizard.

"Indeed, no," smiled Sherlock falsely, but dropped it almost instantly. "I want to know what gave you the idea to approach me. Though you're quite high-ranked, your superiors don't really want... _Muggles_," he tasted the new term on his tongue, saying it for the first time, "involved. So I am naturally curious."

"Oh, of course you would be interested in that..." started Harry, "I guess that can be explained fully before I go. I still need to visit the bookshop after all and would like to get home eventually. And you must have things planned for today too, so I won't be bothering you for much longer. Besides, my main task for today, which was to give you brief introduction to our world and to get you used to the idea of magic, so we can work on the actual problem tomorrow, was accomplished I think..." he trailed off hopefully.

"I don't think I have anything else scheduled. My day is rather flexible," replied Sherlock nonchalantly, a familiar gleam in his eyes – John knew that he should be wary of what is about to follow. "And since you insist on wasting time by refusing to start the investigation today – it's quite clear you will not budge no matter how hard I might press, quite troublesome really... I think it would be a good idea to at least accompany you to your destination – I believe the place you are going to – the bookshop – is magical?" He waited for Harry to nod warily, then continued, pointing at himself and John, "We need to understand magic, and how better to learn about all this than by experiencing it? After all, Mycroft chose you, because he trusted you enough to explain things _properly_. Wouldn't he be disappointed if he found out you failed your task?"

"Sherlock!" admonished John, his manners kicking in. Honestly... as if he cared if Mycroft would be disappointed or not. And that _wasn't_ what Mycroft said – no word about a wizarding tour left his lips (which was too bad, John thought it was a rather good idea – if only to prove to himself that he didn't make a mistake by listening to this man). No, Mycroft just thought Harry would manage his younger brother without losing his temper _or_ sanity. "We can't impose – he was abroad and is just returning home, you said so yourself – leave the man alone. Just look at him. Of course he would want to take at least a small break for today..."

But Harry surprisingly didn't take this way out; instead he just waved his concerns away with a snort. "I certainly hope I don't look _that_ bad, but it's fine. It's not like I didn't expect something like this. I just thought that I ought to try... Just let me send a message so they don't worry at home. I didn't have the time to do so yet." It was kind of obvious that his short visit to Diagon Alley won't be short at all.

"By all means," replied the detective generously now that he got what he wanted "Do you have a phone? Or do you need to borrow John's?"

"Hey," protested the doctor. "Not that I would mind," he assured Harry, "but Sherlock, you just don't offer stuff that don't belongs to you."

"Whyever not?" asked the man innocently.

Harry just gave them a mischievous smile. "Thanks, but I can take care of that." He took his wand out and, to the amazement of the pair, he produced a magnificent silver stag. He stood up and approached it so the tip of the wand was almost touching the snout, then after a few seconds the glowing animal leaped through the closed window and on the street without a warning.

John jumped out of his chair to look out, but the stag was nowhere to be seen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for adding this story to your follows and faves and thanks for the reviews :) (I know, I know I'm parroting myself every time, but I can't help it - amazingly enough you continue to like it and I am terribly grateful)**

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**(DMacX) Can I write spoiler here? Nah... I will write it under the chapter so only those who wants to read it will. And regarding Ollivander... the question is - who would be more creeped out if they met: Sherlock _or_ Ollivander? :D John would be... definitely. **

**(lakuniko) Thank you. I hope you will see more confident Harry, when the situation warrants it. Or Sherlock just needs to push the right buttons - I'm sure he is capable of doing that. **

**(Lanelle) Thank you so much :) And please, there will be no ignoring. I nice to see what my readers think may be included. Again, there will be a short note at the end of the story concerning the Alley visit. As for Harry bending rules, I definitely see him doing something like that, especially during the actual investigation :) And I promise Sherlock and John will find out about the past escapades too... eventually. **

**(Nataly SkyPot) Thanks!**

**(Sarah) I'm glad :D The second point - it will be there, but not just yet ;)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

The doctor sagged back into his chair, mouth agape. "That was... what was that?" he managed to ask.

Sherlock was watching the wand like a hawk now... most likely imagining the things he could put it through, in his attempts to figure out how it worked.

Harry grinned. "I thought I should show you something neater than just a simple levitation charm." Then he glanced at the detective. "And you wanted to _experience_ magic, didn't you just say so?"

"Neat is the right word," breathed John. "What was that?"

"Patronus," stated the wizard simply.

"Protector?" translated Sherlock promptly.

"Yeah," confirmed Harry. "That's the spell's main purpose in a nutshell. Though it can be used for sending messages too, as you have just seen. I would give you a better explanation, but I am afraid that if I started, we would get distracted to the point of no return and I think I still owe you explanation of another kind before we go."

Sherlock agreed – for the moment it was really the best possible course of action. He could always ask about individual spells and magic in general later – oh, and ask he would. The detective then returned to his previous line of thoughts, "I understand that _this_ has to do with my work. However, I fail to see _all_ the connections between you, the Milverton case and our –" he gestured at himself and John – "inclusion."

Harry thought about the matter carefully for a few moments. "As you may have noticed from the discussion I had with Mycroft, we had this planned for some time already. But there is really no mystery to it. Your deductive skills and work as a detective are without a doubt beyond amazing. We felt that it would be more beneficial for you to know rather than to stay in darkness – we have crimes too, and help like yours would be welcomed."

"Then why it took so long – as you hinted previously – to get to this point?" asked Sherlock.

"The laws," replied Harry simply. "They didn't allow it. No one from your closest family is magical. And you are certainly not a government official who needed to be informed in case something of major importance happens... or let's admit it, for our society to manage to stay hidden – but we got around it."

"So Mycroft knew this ever since he held his 'minor government position'?" asked John.

Harry smiled, "Yes, well I have no idea what his 'minor position' is. We have him down as your 'Éminence grise' though. He simply must have been informed."

"Makes sense," said John. "If anyone would be able to find out in a matter of minutes despite your best attempts to cover it, it would be Mycroft Holmes."

"Yes," agreed Harry without hesitation. "His not being informed would have very unpleasant consequences... for us."

"So how did he take it when you told him?" asked the doctor, fishing for a story about the elder Holmes brother.

"John," scoffed Sherlock. "He couldn't have possibly been the one who informed him. Mycroft must have had the meeting at the beginning of his current career. The timing makes Harry an unlikely candidate because of his age."

"True," admitted Harry. "I met him just six years ago, when I was appointed the Head of Auror Department. Kingsley Shacklebolt – that's the Minister of Magic – thought it would be a good idea for us to meet, even though it's usually only the Minister who interacts with our Muggle contacts."

"And how did it go? Meeting Mycroft for the first time?" asked John, then the other thing registered and he blurted out, "Wait, you're the _Head_ of Auror Department?! The top secret investigators that no one knows even exist?!" Even Sherlock looked a bit surprised at that part, thought he already knew that Harry held an important position in the wizarding world.

"I am – guess I got the required credentials for that position. But it's only unknown to Muggles," said Harry simply. "Oh, and the meeting – it went just fine," he added with such a tone that both Sherlock and John instantly suspected that it certainly hadn't.

"So Ronald Weasley works for you?" asked Sherlock when the wizard didn't seem like he was going to elaborate.

"Yes," replied Harry. "He is actually in charge during my absence. I wonder why he went to the hospital though. I would think he would send someone else. Finding out who had contact with the victim and what exactly do the Muggles know – or rather think about what's going on – it could have been done by anyone... but then he might have been curious, he is a bit like his father in that," mused the wizard.

"Oh, he was injured and probably didn't want to seem useless, so he did at least that – admirable really, but he could have done better sending someone who was less prone to make a fool of himself. Then, _you_ left him in charge, meaning you thought him most _competent_. And in that case, I fear for your department..." informed him Sherlock without missing a beat.

"That's enough," hissed John, mentally preparing for the man to finally reach his snapping point. He wanted to visit the place where Harry was going, thank you very much, but his friend just insulted his entire department and with that his own competence too – it could have very well meant that their trip was over before it even started.

And it truly did seem like the wizard had just enough. He lost his easy demeanour and his eyes hardened. "You had no ground for your comment except for _one_ encounter – in a situation that was unfamiliar to Ron no less. Don't judge people like that. It's not appreciated – especially when they are not present to defend themselves. Believe me when I say that Ron _is_ one of the best and I trust him with my life. I always have," he said with finality. "And I _wouldn't_ worry about my department either."

"I... will keep that in mind," said Sherlock slowly and John knew that was closest to apology Harry was getting – the detective may have complied for now, but he certainly didn't change his mind. The doctor was sure Harry knew that too.

"I trust you will," nodded their guest curtly.

"So," John tried to diffuse the situation, "what is our role in the investigation?"

Harry looked at him. "To help to find the perpetrator, of course. Similar to what you do with Muggle police," he started to explain. The doctor noticed that his voice was just a tad bit colder than it was before Sherlock opened his big mouth.

"As I said, the laws before didn't allow something like this – it was thought unnecessary. But partially due to very convincing presentation from Hermione who pointed out many developments in crime solving rivalling and sometimes preceding our means and partially due to Minister's unwavering support and approval of some others more open-minded members of Ministry, the Wizengamot agreed to involve a Muggle expert recommended by your side – and that expert was you. And to be honest, they quite liked the idea – fantastic results; unlimited access to one of London hospitals and its resources; not responding to any higher authority that would demand answers from you – except from your brother, but he knows anyway; not many acquaintances who would notice strange things happening around you... Actually thanks to that they didn't even protest much to John Watson being added to the Exemption too – we understood you were sort of a package deal."

John didn't look particularly happy hearing that – even though he was quite aware that he got this chance merely because of his association with Sherlock. Harry continued without noticing, "He shares a few of those agreeable traits with you – that fact helped too – except for the blog, but you already agreed not to reveal anything." The wizard paused for a moment and then shrugged, "But we were to approach you _only_ in case a criminal from our society that proves to be a danger to Muggles _as well_ is involved. And now we apparently have a murdered Muggle, so we're taking advantage of it, no matter how awful that sounds. But do keep in mind that this is a trial situation – how and if this cooperation continues depends on this case."

Sherlock nodded, satisfied for now. "And tomorrow we are going to visit the crime scene?" he asked.

"Yes, tomorrow," confirmed Harry, glancing at his watch (they were truly interesting – John could have sworn he saw small stars instead of hands). "Today's agenda however, is Diagon Alley. It will be a good start for you – before encountering other places."

* * *

**So, for the note. *SPOILERS* kinda...  
First I must say that _wow_... The next two chapters were already mostly written (still not ready to be published though) by the time I got your reviews and you totally got the fact that the bank will be there (seer's blood or Sherlock Holmes' lessons I wonder :D). I'm afraid it won't be nearly as funny as your ideas and I was thinking how to change it at least a bit, but didn't get in much, as the following chapters (which are somehow outlined and partially written too) would need to be changed too... I know totally my fault for being lazy and not trying enough.  
And sorry about Ollivander, he won't be there now... the visit will be cut short, that's all I'm going to say (But I'm thinking about another visit later - because Sherlock would totally want all the crazy wizarding stuff to experiment on it - I didn't think of Ollivander making an appearance at all, but now I want him there, so if it will be possible I will try to get him in the story)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for follows, favs and reviews :)**

**(lulu) Thanks :) hope you will enjoy all the later chapters too. **

**(Sarah) Glad you enjoyed it. Hope you wouldn't mind they are not there just yet. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

"We are going?" asked John, not really convinced that it was still a part of the plan.

"I promised, didn't I?" said Harry, rather surprised by the question.

The detective was already getting his scarf and coat so John nodded, not really going to say anything that may jeopardize their trip now that Harry seemed to be back in good mood. He couldn't wait to visit a wizarding alley and wondered if it was far and how exactly would they get there... Sherlock must have been thinking along the same lines.

"Where is this Diagon Alley? I've never heard of such a place," he asked rather blandly (Ha, thought the doctor, as if he was fooling anyone with his pretended aloofness. He wanted to see the place as bad as John did – if not even more.)

"Right here in London, of course," replied Harry as they were descending down the stairs. "And a lot closer than you would think."

"Wouldn't people know about it, if it's in London?" asked John curiously.

Before Harry replied, Mrs Hudson stepped out of her flat. "Going already?" she asked.

"Yes we are," answered Sherlock. "I got a new case." Despite his best efforts he _couldn't_ contain his grin and giddiness entirely as he said that. It may be just an ordinary (wizarding!) murder he would be solving tomorrow... But magic was real! Oh, this could be fun! The things he could bring home! He was practically buzzing with energy, wanting to run off.

As with John, Mrs Hudson saw through his rather weak facade right away. "Oh no, what is it? A serial killer?" she asked with trepidation.

"No, no, Mrs Hudson," he smiled. "Not a serial killer – at least not yet. Hopefully, there will be one eventually though – they can't be so dull as not to have a few of their own! But so far it may be interesting even without one."

"Just be careful boys," said the landlady, not even reacting to what Sherlock said.

"Aren't we always," answered John grinning.

"Oh dear..." she murmured.

"Good bye," shouted out Harry before they dragged him away and the doors closed behind them.

"Well, where to now?" asked Sherlock once they stood outside. He was trying to hail a cab – surprisingly it took a lot more effort than usually.

"Charing Cross Road," said the wizard.

"Charing Cross Road?!" asked John and Sherlock simultaneously – though strangely it made sense, they were going to a bookshop, after all... but a whole wizarding alley?

"Yes," nodded Harry. "There is an old pub there that we're going to visit – I doubt you noticed it until now. It's protected. Behind it is the entrance to the Alley."

"_Behind_ a pub?" asked John. "Really?"

"There is no pub there," protested Sherlock vehemently. He, as someone who prided himself of knowing every nook and cranny in London, should be sure of that. He could imagine the street vividly and was certain that he would have noticed a pub apparently established long ago – the only place that could have somehow fit was one abandoned _shop_ that he _never_ heard or saw being open before... could it be...

He had no more time to think about it as a cab _finally_ stopped and they got in. Less than twenty minutes later they found themselves facing the non-existent pub. Sherlock was sulking. John didn't have time to be bothered by that, because he was gaping at the place that never existed - at least it didn't when he usually passed this street.

Harry took pity on them and tried to explain. "Only someone magical can bring newcomers to this place when they are visiting for the first time. But once you know it's here, you won't ever have a problem with it again. You can go here without being accompanied by someone anytime you want now. You will just need to ask Hannah to open the entrance to Alley for you."

"Who's Hannah?" asked John.

"One of the owners," replied Harry. "And a friend of mine."

"How did you make people oblivious to this place?" asked the detective finally after watching people walking around with narrowed eyes. They were _not_ just ignoring the building as something not worthy their attention – their eyes slid over, as if it was not there at all.

"Enchantments," Harry told him. "They are part of the building. If they weren't in place anyone would be able to enter. Shall we go in?"

Sherlock and John nodded

The inside of the pub was nice and cosy. It surprised John; he was expecting it to be in far worse condition. It wasn't crowded; there were only few people there. Sherlock's eyes were darting around, taking everything and everyone in, cataloguing them – almost everyone seemed to be wearing some sort of... robes? Was that the usual wizarding attire? That would explain why Weasley felt uncomfortable when he visited the morgue... The people in the pub were also trying and failing to watch them – no, not them, _only_ _their wizarding companion_ – inconspicuously.

"Hello, Hannah!" greeted Harry the pretty blonde woman behind the counter.

"Harry," she replied happily. "When did you get back? And who are these dapper gentlemen?" She smiled at them in greeting.

"Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson," introduced Harry then nodded towards the woman. "This is Hannah Longbottom." John straightened his back, dipped his head in greeting and gave her a flashing smile in return. Sherlock looked bored. "I am accompanying them to the Alley today. They got the permission under the Exemption," he told her as if that explained everything.

It probably did, because Hannah nodded, absolutely unperturbed. "Nice to meet you," she gave them another sunny smile. "Hope you will enjoy it here."

"They may visit sometimes on their own. If they do, would you open the Alley entrance for them?" asked Harry. "Also, may I leave this here, please?" he raised his bag slightly. "I don't want to run around with it."

"No problem," she agreed easily.

"Thank you," replied Harry smiling as he handed her the bag, then grimaced apologetically. "It was great seeing you, but we ought to be going. I'm sorry."

"Of course," she nodded. "Have a drink when you return. It will be on the house!" she smiled and waved as they disappeared through the back door.

After the doors closed, John shuffled towards Harry to ask something out of Sherlock's earshot. Not that he would have noticed, he was once again thinking over something, a faraway look on his face, but Harry's booming laugh made him turn towards them. John was terribly red in face. Ah!

"He wanted to ask that woman on a date," stated Sherlock knowingly, looking at Harry for confirmation.

"Yep," confirmed Harry.

"And he didn't notice the ring?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all," shook his head the wizard, while John mumbled something about it being out of sight and it hardly being his fault not noticing that...

"But I don't understand why he is so embarrassed?" admitted the detective confused. "This is hardly the first time his romantic attempts were shot down for one reason or another. He didn't even talk to her."

"That would be my fault," Harry chuckled. "I told him tha-"

"OKAY!" cried the embarrassed doctor, successfully stopping Harry mid-sentence. "Can we instead concentrate on why are we in the backyard facing a brick wall, _please_?!"

"John, why don't you observe?" sighed Sherlock and, to his friend's relief, he complied and focused his attention on the wall. "This is clearly the entrance."

"Yes," replied John flatly, crossing his arms, "clearly."

Harry didn't say a word; instead he waited for the detective to show off... he didn't wait for long.

"The ground has many footmarks on it. A lot of people walk through here every day. Only someone magical can get it open though, as you told us." He nodded towards Harry. "I also assume that this is one of the first places visited by those who are new to your world – be it Muggles or Muggle-borns – from your comment about it being a 'good start'. That means it is most likely supposed to have a lasting effect on people – you would want to make a good first impression on someone who is getting into something unknown. Meaning the entrance will be unnecessarily showy."

"Right on _all_ accounts," nodded Harry and tapped the bricks with his wand. "But I wouldn't say it's _unnecessarily_ showy."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews the story gathered so far... I cannot believe it's so many :) **

**(Nataly SkyPot) Thank you :)**

**(A Reader) You're very welcome. Hopefully you will enjoy it. **

**(Lanelle) Thank you. I laughed so much on the Queen comment. It was incredibly funny and I was terribly sorry that it didn't get used yet. Next time when they will visit there will be more people in the Alley, I promise... for some reason I imagined just a few people shopping now :( **

**(Sarah) Don't worry, either someone answers or it will be left vague and not correct, it's not like it's the matter of life and death to know that. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I am not so sure about what he said though... probably something like 'you know, her husband keeps man-eating plants in basement for situations like this.' but that's just lame... I am sure you all can think of something far more cleverer :) ...that's why it was left unsaid. **

**(Man of Kent - Railwayman) Thank you so much :)**

**(KG86) I'm glad you think so, thank you. I truly hope I will manage to keep it for the rest of the story too :)**

**(zeynel) That's great. :) Hope you will like this chapter.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

Unnecessarily or not, decided John, it was certainly something to remember. The place was simply... magical. There was no other way to describe it. The shops... the atmosphere... even the few people milling around... everything. But he really didn't wish to look too eager – he was a grown man, for God's sake, not some child, to run around, press his nose to the windows and point at things in wonder. His neck suffered a lot because of this decision though, as he at least wished to take a look at everything from afar – preferably at the same time as not to miss something.

Sherlock despite his previous words didn't look particularly impressed though. John noticed he had the same look he had when they arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was obviously aware that something is going on too. "Okay," he said as he started to lead them towards the tall white building that dominated the Alley, "something is bothering you..."

Sherlock frowned. "This," he waved all around him. "You concealing this place and _making_ people not notice that. I understand why you do it, but you're messing with people's minds; their senses." He was frustrated. "How can I solve crimes when I cannot be sure that my perception hasn't been altered?! How do I know it was not _already_ done on me in the past?"

Those questions were good ones, pondered John. It once again brought in the point that just as magic is definitely something that could impress in a good way; it's equally possible for it to be unpleasant as well.

Harry stopped and looked at Sherlock carefully. It was obvious that the man was frightened of the effects the magic could have on his mind. After all, it was something he prized most about himself. He wondered how to go about and explain properly. "I was watching you two when I showed you the Leaky Cauldron. John didn't know about it, your expression however puzzled me," he said at last.

"I had my suspicions about where we were going," admitted Sherlock. "But I was sure it's just an old shop. I _should_ have known something was wrong with it."

"You don't see how extraordinary that is," exclaimed Harry, who suspected as much. "I'm a wizard and yet, when I went here for the first time, I needed the place to be pointed out to me. Only after that I noticed it. What does that tell you?"

The detective still seemed unsure. "Despite that –"

"Just listen," said the wizard. "The spells protecting our properties are playing on the general obviousness of public – you can say they enhance it. You don't expect such a pub on this street, so you don't see it there. And the spells work on magical people too. They are not designed specifically for Muggles. I don't think there is a spell like that, except for Muggle-Repelling charm – which makes you remember some business you ought to be doing instead of entering the place protected by it. So, as everyone is affected, the only difference is that we _know_ the pub is supposed to be here. I didn't because I was raised by Muggles. Other Muggle-borns never know about it either before they enter our world."

John thought about it – all that was said was true. He never noticed the Leaky Cauldron – at all – until today. He scoffed internally, of course _Sherlock Holmes_ would be an exception...

"_You_ saw the front of what you thought to be an old shop," continued Harry. "No one would enter an _abandoned_ shop, but some Muggles might try to enter a pub – even if it's a dodgy one. The front is made that way – to double the security, in case the first line fails – like in your case. And I doubt you needed to spare it a second glance, running around London, chasing criminals – you had better things to do than to think about the building and one unimportant shop."

"That sounds... plausible," admitted the detective, feeling slightly better.

They resumed their walk when Harry added solemnly, "You may encounter more things you would find unpleasant concerning magic, but please, don't condemn us for that. As I said before, most of us are just living our lives without intervening in the lives of Muggles at all."

John and Sherlock nodded. The possibilities of magic were still something to be concerned about, but they really had no plans to spoil their first day in the wizarding world. "Where are we going?" asked the doctor, wanting to abandon this dreary subject.

"I thought we should go to the bank first," replied Harry and pointed at the tall building that John noticed previously.

"You have banks?" he couldn't stop the question.

"Just one," replied Harry and couldn't help but grin. "It's run by goblins. We have our own currency. It might be quite difficult to grasp at first, but you will get used to it after a while..." He was rummaging in his pockets, undoubtedly trying to fish out some money to show them.

"Goblins?" asked Sherlock, his voice mingling with John's shocked outcry, though unlike the doctor he said it in a slightly confused voice. John had a feeling his friend was not asking because he was surprised they existed, but because he didn't store information of any kind about them.

"Yeah," shrugged the wizard. "Just like in the tales, though of course Muggles didn't get that much right. By the way don't mind if they are glaring at me. They are still kind of holding a grudge, even if it's a long time since the whole mess was sorted out. You shall be fine, just don't openly gawk at them."

"What mess?" asked John curiously.

"Ah, you know," said Harry casually, "breaking into a high-security vault, robbery, destruction of property, stealing a dragon... that sort of thing."

The doctor gaped "Robbery? Wait... _dragon?!_" Even Sherlock stopped glaring at the shop with robes that was nearby and looked at their guide. "You're not a criminal." It wasn't a question.

"Nope," agreed Harry with a smile.

John rather thought the wizard was joking. It certainly seemed that way – he didn't elaborate on the story (if there was one), instead he showed them the money he got out of his pocket. "Well, the bronze ones are Knuts, you have 29 Knuts in Sickle, those are the silver ones and 17 Sickles in Galleon – the gold ones. It will be just a quick stop at the counter and we should be done. You took some cash with you, didn't you?"

"Erm... do credit cards not work here?" asked John sheepishly. He had some money with him, but he doubted it was nearly enough for whatever they might buy. He didn't dare to hope that Sherlock had any at all.

Harry just shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's my fault, I should have remembered. We will just exchange some of what you have, so you get used to the bank. I have enough with me for whatever you might buy, so no problem..."

The doctor started to protest, but Harry would have none of that, once again repeating that it was his fault anyway.

The bank was magnificent. Sherlock rattled off the worth of the interior and John felt light-headed. Their companion talked to one of those goblins behind the counter. They were kind of scary and looked terribly fierce – John definitely thought that it wouldn't be a good idea to cross them. He watched the exchange carefully – they were curt and to the point, but he didn't think they were glaring at Harry specifically - especially if he compared him to that other bloke that was unsuccessfully trying to find some key in his pockets for the last few minutes. John now felt even more sure that the man was joking. He had a feeling that those goblins would not have a problem taking care of such offender in their own way. They certainly wouldn't let him enter casually, would they? He glanced at Sherlock. He barely spared the bankers a look, but was scrutinizing Harry in similar fashion as he did when he first entered to their flat...

After a few more moments John was a proud owner of three gold Galleons and some other coins. When they left, Harry mentioned something about a vault and a ride next time he goes with them. Neither of his companions paid much attention to that, because they finally reached the bookshop which got this whole trip started.

It was the weirdest bookshop John ever encountered. There were thousands of books – small, big ones, thin, thick, colourful, dull... growling?! That was definitely new.

Sherlock looked like a child that entered a sweets shop. His previous worries forgotten for now – his eyes were travelling rapidly from spine to spine, drinking up the titles.

A shop assistant wobbled towards them. "Ah, Mr Potter," he said. "Welcome. Your book is waiting for you."

Harry smiled. "Thank you for that, I appreciate it. I was sure I wouldn't be able to find that one anywhere."

"Anything for you, Mr Potter," beamed the man. "Will you need anything else?"

"Yes," nodded Harry. "I was thinking some tomes about charms and transfiguration theory – from basic to advanced, please. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi would be okay too and maybe something explaining the process of potion making that also contains descriptions of individual potions – again, more theoretical approach if there is something like that. Also a book describing Dark Curses and how to recognise their effects, if you please."

The assistant was nodding, summoning the books on the counter as Harry spoke.

"Thank you! We will let you know if anything else catches their fancy," he nodded towards Sherlock and John.

"Of course Mr Potter," bowed the man and left them.

"Why did you ask for those?" asked John bewildered.

"I just thought that you would want the books," shrugged Harry. "They will probably explain a lot of what you might want to know. I was not so sure about other subjects though, but Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Herbology are the core ones. Approaching Defence against the Dark Arts purely theoretically is not really the best strategy, it's mostly about spells and charms _used_ in duels and combats and any other dangerous situation you might find yourself in, but adding a book on recognising the effects of Dark Curses will be helpful for you. Then there is Astronomy..."

"No!" exclaimed Sherlock more forcefully than the situation warranted. "What else?"

"... History, Magical Creatures, Runes, Arithmancy, Divination..." trailed the wizard off.

Sherlock thought over it for a moment. "Something about contemporary history and a book about the creatures should be added. Divination sounds stupid – you can't predict anything without having valid data and I will leave the decision about those other two things to you."

Harry nodded. "I will go and find the attendant. Have a look around and choose whatever else you would like." With that he disappeared.

"I still find it hard to believe this," admitted John as they wandered around the bookstore.

"Why?" asked Sherlock, occasionally picking books that sounded interesting.

"It's just too... fantastic," replied John after a while as he looked around himself, deciding what to choose. Then he picked one of the books and examined it carefully.

"Listen to this – The Philosophy of Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know by Professor Mordicus Egg. Maybe it will explain how some of those security spells work too?" he mused as he read the content.

"Add it," came the muffled reply.

John turned around to see why Sherlock's voice sounded so strained... and nearly fell on the floor. Before he managed to say something, the shop assistant approached him.

"Sirs, Mr Potter sent me to let you know we managed to secure the other requested books. Mr Potter also thought to add Hogwarts: A History to your purchase. If you are finished here, please follow me to the counter."

John appeared at the front of the shop after a few moments. He saw that, unlike when they entered, there were some people now. Before Harry managed to approach him, he needed to disentangle himself from two elderly witches that were fawning over him and shook hands with at least three other people.

"Who are they?" asked the doctor when Harry finally reached him.

"Just people that know me," shrugged the wizard. "Did you find something?" he deflected and reminded the doctor that he left his friend alone with the poor shopkeeper.

"I fear that Sherlock lost all restraints," lamented the blond man, still holding Professor Egg's book and contemplating just returning it back.

Harry just laughed heartily when a dangerously wobbling pile of books – otherwise known as the Consulting Detective – that the assistant was fretting around, appeared too.

* * *

**I own the Professor's Egg book too... only on Pottermore though :(**  
**Also spoiler: about 80% of Sherlock's books are potion related... :D  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you all for reading :) The favs, follows and reviews mean so much to me. And the number of views is downright astonishing. **

**(dogsby) Very logical suggestion, but I like to surprise him too much to just hand him all the answers on the silver platter :) The transportation methods are not forgotten though... I think I wrote 'connect their fireplace to the Floo network' somewhere in my notes. The Knight Bus will be another must - if I manage to think of situation when they need to go outside of London. **

**(Guest) Thank you!**

**(lulu) I'm glad you enjoyed it. About Harry being too open - yes he is, if you count Sherlock and John as ordinary Muggles, but as people who are expected to fully function among magical folks later I think it's necessary to give them the means to assimilate. I sent a more detailed PM, because I totally took your last review as a permission to do so. If you wish to discuss anything else, don't hesitate to contact me (anyone is more than welcome actually, I would love to answer any questions you may have and don't want to put them in a review). **

**(dana-san) Thanks :)**

**(midnight-flurry) Thank you. I am happy you think so. Though I do hope they are on the way to form some sort of friendship too. **

**(Paddehfeets) Thank you :D**

**(Sarah) Thanks so much. **

**(KG86) :D I'm glad you think so. I can promise Ron will be back soon... others will come in later. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

At the end, the bags were distributed between Harry and John, who stood in front of the shop rather hopelessly surrounded by their (Sherlock's!) purchase. Sherlock with his free hands clasped innocently behind his back was unwaveringly walking back to the Leaky Cauldron, not even sparing them a glance. John was resisting the urge to throw Hogwarts: A History at his head – it was nice and heavy, exactly what he needed.

Okay, so the pub wasn't that far away, but that really was not the point. "I hate you!" he grumbled. "Can't you carry them?! They are yours!" However his complaints were mightily ignored by the retreating detective.

The doctor prepared to lunge, but Harry stopped him. "Don't worry about it. Look." He took out his wand and waved it. John tried to pick one of the bags – it was as if he held nothing.

"That's handy," he sighed in relief. "What's that?"

"Feather-light Charm," replied Harry and they hurried after Sherlock who was looking through the shop windows blankly (though he shuddered in disgust when they reached the owl shop). John cursed the man; he wanted to stop in the broom shop. But no, they were returning to the pub, because not only were the two of them degraded to the detective's personal bag-carriers, but Sherlock probably got bored _already_ – great.

As they entered the Leaky Cauldron Hannah ushered them to one of the empty tables and brought them the promised drinks; they were called Butterbeers, as the visitors were informed. At the top of that John and Harry managed to convince Sherlock that it was a good time to have something to eat – their main argument was the fact that he was not on the case until tomorrow, no matter what he may or may not think.

John was bewildered by the menu they were offered and chose Pea Soup simply because all the other things sounded like someone was just playing with words so the menu was not so empty. Sherlock, after he promised to buy something (and actually eat it) was more daring and Harry just asked for 'what he had the last time'.

During the time they waited for their order John asked Harry what exactly Quidditch was, because he was wondering about it since he glimpsed the name of the place where they were selling the broomsticks. To the doctor's delight (and the detective's dismay), they got a long and detailed explanation of the rules – he was just naming some of the fouls when Hannah brought their meals.

It all sounded so fascinating. John found himself wishing he could witness this sport at least once. On the other hand, Sherlock found himself groaning at the stupidity of it all and declared that at the end it could be all reduced to two individuals chasing after a miniscule ball with the distribution of the points they had. Harry was just heatedly pointing out the importance of _all_ the players, when the front door opened and the wizard froze mid-explanation of the scenario where chasers can bring in the victory despite the seeker not catching the snitch. John and Sherlock, who were not facing the door turned around to see what caused the sudden halt.

An elder woman, her blonde hair streaked with silver, stood there, her thin crimson lips stretching to a wide, toothy smile as soon as she spotted them. So far it wasn't really something to be alarmed about, but then Harry groaned and John really should have taken that as a sign of approaching danger.

"Harry," she cried in a falsely nice voice as soon as she was close enough. All three men cringed. She pointedly ignored Sherlock and John; her eyes were set only on Harry. "Isn't it a pleasant surprise to see you here? What a coincidence that I needed to make a quick stop in the Alley today, too." Then she sat down, on the fourth chair, still smiling widely as if to dare them to protest. A faint smell of alcohol wafted over the table as she leaned closer.

"It is _indeed_ a marvellous coincidence, Rita," nodded Harry solemnly.

"My, my," the woman shook her head. "Aren't we serious today? What is the reason, I wonder."

John and Sherlock watched the exchange bemusedly – at least John did, Sherlock already found a lot about her. To be perfectly honest he wasn't impressed, but decided to keep silent for now, watching where the situation would go.

"Why," continued the woman as she rummaged her ghastly purse for a quill and a piece of parchment, while giving Sherlock the perfect opportunity to have a quick glance in and furthered his deductions about her, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions now that we've met here so unexpectedly."

"Rita," said Harry in a tired voice. "I'm sure you're well aware that I am not going to talk to you."

"What a pity," tsked the woman. "The latest trip abroad destroyed all your manners, I see. Not only you omitted to introduce me to your companions, but you refuse to talk to me as well? Ah, no matter – I shall do the talking then."

"Maybe you should just leave," suggested the wizard sharply.

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "I believe you may want to hear what was going on here while you were visiting the foreign Ministries. Where were you anyway? France? Germany? Somewhere else? Why so much secrecy?"

"Rita!" said Harry warningly.

The woman ignored the dangerous tone, instead she grinned once again. "Well, I wonder where to start. You missed quite a lot for being away for such a short time," she pretended to be deep in thoughts. "Would you like to hear how the Deputy Auror Weasley got into a fight with some crooks, because Mundungus Fletcher was involved with them in some shady business? He ended up in St. Mungo's for his trouble. I heard the bones in his left arm were shattered... ugh... that must have hurt!" She made a grimace of pain, but her voice sounded positively gleeful. "Thank Merlin for Skele-gro! So, is this a new direction for the Auror Office? To get involved in the petty disputes of those low-lives, instead of defending upstanding witches and wizards? Naturally, I ran an article about it, but it would be nice to have your statement too."

Hannah, who just finished serving one of the tables moved towards them, an angry expression on her face. Harry stood up, not reacting to Skeeter's barbs – though John noticed his eyes glinted dangerously. He and Sherlock followed suit. The detective however decided that he held himself admirably until now, but enough was enough – she was grating on his nerves more than Anderson and Donovan put together, and she reminded him a little too much of the journalists he was forced to endure in the past. He felt disgusted by people like that. However before he managed to open his mouth, Rita stood up too and continued in her unwanted tirade.

"Oh, but what was I thinking, that cannot be what are you really interested it. You still haven't been home yet, despite being back in Britain for a few hours now, am I right? Don't you wonder how your wife is, Harry? She must have been glad to have you out of the house for at least a while. Why, she was seen in the company of one Oliver Wood the very day you left. Isn't Mr. Wood your former team mate and a friend? Tsk tsk. They looked awfully close, if you ask me..."

"Interesting, how acutely aware you are of things, when I am sure you should have been passed out somewhere," interjected Sherlock smoothly in a much louder voice than the woman's. The whole pub stared at him – the Leaky Cauldron was never so quiet as at that moment.

"Excuse me?" Rita was visibly taken aback.

"You," started Sherlock and took a deep breath, "have a drinking problem, but then I guess you learned to function with alcohol in your system. Though it was worse these past days – it must be coincidence that you're sober enough to bother us with your presence. Your latest lover – quite younger than you by the way – broke up with you recently. It was _him_, not you, who ended it. He found someone younger and less poisonous, didn't he? You were with him to boost your ego, so why the anger – that poor photograph didn't deserve the treatment. And yet, you still have it – perhaps you were with him because of sentiment too. It's a pity that you need to drown your sorrow like that, but then you have no one who would be there for you now – except for the bottles. You're alone – and scared of staying that way. Quite a sad private life you have there. Hmm, but then your career is not that much either. You pride yourself for being a great journalist – you just mentioned an article you had published and yet your clothes are worn out – well-cared and the fabric was expensive, but definitely too old. Admit it, you struggle to get by nowadays. True, you must have been successful, but that was in the past and you wish to get your lifestyle back. A scandal about Harry Potter would be a great way to achieve it. You were choosing your words deliberately, knowing well that he might not react if you attack him directly, but the people he cares about – that's another matter entirely. But what were you hoping for? That he will shout at you? Curse you? That would be quite a scene. And you would be able to post a first-hand commentary. Very transparent plan indeed and quite a long shot. You must be desperate."

Rita was looking at Sherlock as if he was a monster from nightmares. She was pale, her eyes were wide and lips were trembling. John however didn't find it in himself to feel terribly sorry for her. Instead he mentally cheered for his friend – a feat that happened next to never when the detective started deducing people to pieces. Harry's furious glare was replaced by worried glance in Sherlock's direction. He tried to push Sherlock and John towards the door, but the woman regained her composure before they managed to leave.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. "How dare you sprout those lies?!"

The detective turned around. "The name is Sherlock Holmes. And unfortunately for you, I don't lie." With that he entered back to Muggle London, followed by Harry and John.

They barely got outside, when the entrance opened again and Hannah stepped out.

"You forgot this," she handed Harry his bag. In their hurry to leave, they snatched only the bags with books and forgot about the one behind the counter. She turned towards Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, I could kiss you for what you did!" she exclaimed, looking at him with admiration. As was to be expected, Sherlock was more than surprised by that proclamation. So was John. Harry chuckled and she looked at him. "Oh don't look at me like that. She was positively horrid, Harry. I dare you to disagree! And I know it was a long time ago, but I didn't forgive her for what she wrote about Neville. And all the other people too. It was apparent that her lesson from Hermione didn't stick. I was about to kick her out! But it was about time she got a taste of her own medicine! Maybe this one will last longer." Then she beamed at the detective again, wished them all a nice day, and disappeared back indoors.

"You really shouldn't have done that," lamented Harry looking at Sherlock, though the effect was lost as he was fighting a smile. "Like Hannah said, it was probably long overdue, but you shouldn't have..."

"How can you say that?" asked John indignantly. "Are you really defending her after what she said?"

"John, I'm not defending her," replied Harry rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement. "She _always_ twists the truth. Trusting Rita Skeeter is like letting yourself to be willingly poisoned. I was worried for a moment about Ron, but I already know thanks to Sherlock's quip back in your flat that he was well enough to be at work, so he is fine. And Ginny is a sport's redactor – the meeting was an interview that was scheduled before I left. Oliver doesn't like to get distracted from the game in any way, so she was ecstatic he agreed to one just before one of Puddlemore's matches."

"So she was lying," frowned John.

"Oh no," shook his head Harry. "_Technically_, she was not. She lives and breathes half-truths. That's why Rita Skeeter is a nasty piece of work – it would be better if she didn't notice you two."

"You think I can't handle one rude reporter?" asked the detective with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sure you can," shrugged Harry, "but why to make things harder for yourself when it could have been avoided. I bet she will try to sabotage you now and that's not really something we need."

"What can she do?" questioned John rather worriedly – remembering quite vividly that vengeful reporters and Sherlock was not a good combination.

"I'm expecting we will find out soon – she will probably attack the Ministry decisions concerning you," predicted Harry rather gloomily.

Sherlock did look like he wanted to say something, but at the end he decided to change the subject entirely, "So I suppose that now we won't be returning to the Alley?"

John was the one who replied – still thinking over the reporter. "Oh no," he said, "it was great – except for the last part – but I think I've had quite enough excitement for today. Leave something for the next time too, Sherlock. Preferably when there won't be any wizarding reporters around. Besides you have your books, imagine how much you can read and then probably delete – what else could you possibly want?" Sherlock just crossed his arms defiantly.

"Okay," nodded Harry. "It's good not to rush it anyway. Now you at least have the chance to read a bit and be better prepared for the next time. So I think we can conclude our day here. I will make inquiries about the case and will inform you about our next steps tomorrow. Will you meet me at Whitehall? There is a telephone box – the only one there if I am not mistaken. I'll meet you there. Let's say nine o'clock? We will be going to the Ministry first."

Sherlock and John nodded their consent. After that Harry assured them that the Feather-light Charm on the bags should hold for at least another hour, so they won't have any problem taking them to their flat.

After bidding their farewells, John and Sherlock hailed a cab. As they were stepping inside, they briefly wondered just which building at Whitehall is the masqueraded Ministry that dealt with magical people.

* * *

**Let's just pretend there is one (and the only one) phone box on that street, shall we? I'm sorry if it's incorrect. :(  
Sorry about Rita too... I hope I didn't make Sherlock too harsh (I was warned he sounds extra mean), but on my defence she was being mean too so...  
Btw did you know she wrote a book about Harry after the war? Originally I was thinking they should find that one in the bookshop and have their view on Harry skewed, but then I decided they will meet her in person and will get the ****_correct_**** info later.  
Oh... and the food in the Leaky Cauldron was inspired by the first movie (even though I named only the Pea soup) - I know that cannot exactly count as book canon, but I decided to use them anyway, so let's just pretend that Soup Soup Soup and others are very lovely dishes, not just a way to fill the board (there is a pic on the Wikia page about the Leaky Cauldron if you don't remember it from the movie - I know I didn't)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you all for reading, follows and favs and especially for the reviews, they always cheer me up so much :)**

**(lulu) Thanks, I'm glad. I'm afraid I cannot answer that - not because I want to keep it a secret, but because I have about three versions of the following events and I am still undecided what exactly will be used. **

**(Sarah) Yeah, I'm afraid this is not her last appearance. Glad you liked it. **

**(Man of Kent - Railwayman) Thank you! :)**

**(goanago) Goodness, so many reviews :) Thank you so much! I am glad you liked it so far :D And of course I can imagine that! Thankfully he has John to carry stuff for him. Hope you will like the later chapters too.**

**(SeverusDmitri18) I'm glad you do :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

It was hard to sleep when yesterday's events were still buzzing around his head, so it was no wonder when John woke up early. He wasn't in any hurry to get up though and tried to get his breathing under control. Honestly, couldn't his brain find some better way to cope with all the magic, than some bloody nonsensical dreams?

He stayed in the bed, recalling everything that happened - okay, so he got where the dream came from, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing. Thankfully no one ever needed to know about it. Then he continued his reminiscence and unsurprisingly concluded that the evening was the only part of the day that had at least a semblance of normalcy.

* * *

As they returned home, they found out that Mrs Hudson had Mrs Turner over for tea and was just animatedly telling her about the newest client of the consulting detective.

They knew this because Sherlock barged into her flat, told her that they are home (as if she could have missed that) and informed her in his usual tactful fashion that she shouldn't bother entering their flat in the foreseeable future, because he will be going through sensitive and dangerous material and she will most likely mess it up and he will lock up the flat anyway, in case she will not heed his warning. Then he promptly disappeared upstairs, not minding the tutting Mrs Turner in the slightest. John had automatically apologised to both ladies for the interruption.

Mrs Hudson didn't mind it that much, but she wasn't very enthusiastic about the 'sensitive and dangerous material' Sherlock mentioned. She was most probably imagining horrid things, and so threatened John, who was supposed to relay the message to the detective, that there will be no more experiments, if the flat won't be in its current condition after he is finished with whatever he is going to do.

John didn't bother mentioning that Sherlock's stuff is just a pile of leather-bound tomes this time – it was better for them that she thought the detective bought a bag of organs rather than magical textbooks. He sighed when it dawned on him that the body parts were a far more believable choice than some books anyway.

After saying good-bye and reaching their flat, Sherlock slammed the door behind him and secured it against prying eyes of their landlady. Then he proceeded to sort his books with care that was a rare sight indeed, as he was usually very careless with everything short of a few lucky items. Well... when John said 'sort them' he didn't actually mean any kind of system that would be understandable to anyone but the detective...

When Sherlock was happy with his piles, he went to his bedroom and emerged in his pyjamas and gown, only to make himself comfortable on the sofa, pick the first book and start reading so rapidly that his eyes were almost a blur.

John just rolled his eyes and opened his laptop to check the blog. He still hadn't updated the case from... yesterday? He needed to make the mental calculation (twice) to be sure that yes, _indeed_ it was only yesterday, that there was no magic around (okay it was, but they didn't know it). Well, it certainly felt like much longer...

He decided to start on it now, knowing that if he didn't, he will most probably forget about it in the avalanche of all that was currently happening. Besides he wouldn't be able to post anything from their newest adventure, so he should at least perfect this post, as it will probably be his last entry for a while.

Sometime in the middle of writing he took a break and made himself an evening snack. He offered to make a sandwich for Sherlock too, but the man only grunted, which John was sure meant 'shut up'. So he did... and left the detective hungry (not that it was such a big punishment for the man).

Later when he was sure the entry didn't have any mistakes that could be pointed out by Sherlock (he proofread it at least four times to be sure), he finally clicked on publish and decided that it was about time to go to bed. He dared to ask his friend if he was going to get some sleep, but like before, he shouldn't have bothered.

The detective told him that he needed to acquire data to deal with the newly discovered wizarding world and he shall be sleeping when all the gaps are filled. So John shrugged and left, not wanting to interfere with Sherlock's apparently cracked mind palace thingy - as a matter of fact, he counted it as a success that he wasn't just ignored and managed to get a real answer.

But soon John discovered that falling asleep wouldn't be so easy, and when he finally did, his dreams didn't let him forget about magic at all. He was chased around the Alley by goblins who were riding giant books that were breathing fire for some goddamn reason, while he was shouting that all he wanted was only one lousy broom. It was all narrated by Rita Skeeter to make it complete. Then he woke up and found himself in his current situation.

Still thinking about the madness that was his life (not that he was complaining, he was quite okay with it - except for the moronic dream), he decided that enough was enough and he should get ready for today's adventure.

He wasn't at all surprised when he finally entered the living room, to find the detective in the same position as he left him yesterday – with a different book of course.

John glimpsed the title and he was forced to admit that he had no idea how Magical Drafts and Potions would help Sherlock with the murder, but he wasn't going to ask. Now that he thought about it, not a single book Sherlock chose – maybe except for the Encyclopaedia of Toadstools which may be useful in some future case of poisoning – seemed to have anything to do with possible magical crimes.

Then he remembered Harry's prediction about Sherlock trying to crack all the answers to magic and suddenly the choice of books didn't seem all that weird. He was somewhat seeing a pattern in Sherlock's choice of books – and all pointed to the fact that his first attempt at dabbling will be in the field of potion making. The doctor noticed that three additional books dealing with the subject were lying open on the table – a lot of pages bookmarked and a few papers with notes scattered around them.

John glanced at his watch – and groaned. It was still terribly early. He decided that he should also read something, because otherwise he would drive himself mad with his own restlessness – besides he didn't have time to touch those books yesterday, as he decided to concentrate on his blog.

John didn't want to disrupt Sherlock's meticulously prepared columns, so he decided to take one of the two books that lay further from the rest. He guessed it was because the topic was history, not magical theory like the rest and so they got their own category. Though it was equally possible that Sherlock just dismissed them as unimportant and threw them aside, as he didn't plan to read them at all.

The doctor picked up Notable Magical names of Our Time thinking that he could at least find out who was important in wizarding society – who knew, there were bound to be important witches and wizards milling about their own Ministry, right?

His started to scan the name index, deciding which one sounded interesting enough for him to read about...

"What the –" he exclaimed loudly. Sherlock only grunted in response, not even tearing eyes from his own book. John didn't care though. He hurriedly opened the page that was next to the familiar name and read through the entry. It left him speechless. He then hurriedly proceeded to go through the entries about other people mentioned in the passage he just finished.

Okay, so maybe he briefly wondered about all the people that gathered around him in the bookshop, but _this_?! That was... he honestly didn't know if he should be horrified or absolutely stunned. "Oh God!" he exclaimed finally, as if he just now remembered what the wizard said. "He really _did _rob the bank. And escaped on a freaking dragon!"

That somehow got the detective's attention. "Hmm?" he pried his eyes from the potion book and peered at John.

The doctor didn't say anything, he just handed the book to his friend so he can look at it himself. Sherlock grabbed it and read it carefully. John waited patiently for him to finish, trying to notice how he took it – he didn't find out much, Sherlock kept his expression quite unreadable, though occasionally he glimpsed how his eyes widened just the tiniest bit... he wondered at which parts.

"That at least explains it," said the detective after he finished reading.

"What?!" exclaimed John not expecting him to shrug it off. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" asked Sherlock, looking at John curiously. "Didn't you see? A lot of people were staring at Harry in the Leaky Cauldron and then in the Alley too. Then of course there was the assistant in the bookshop. 'Anything for you Mr. Potter,' he said... and all the time he spent bowing. That's a little too much even for an attentive assistant, don't you think so? And then that reporter. I thought that she was hoping for a scoop on the Head of Auror Department, but this would be even better. _Of course _she didn't want to leave him alone – any story about him would sell. And I said before that he holds a high position in their society, but as I had no information about them, it escaped me just how high."

"Of course I noticed," bristled John. "But... all those things. Sherlock... He was a _kid_ during most of it... _hell_, all of it. He was _seventeen_ when he ended a _war_! And there were other _children_ involved!"

"Yes," grimaced Sherlock, "it seems that I was mistaken. Maybe I should have let you to ask him about his school years. They don't seem as dull as I imagined."

"And _that_ is what concerns you the most?!" questioned John with disbelief.

"We should either get a more detailed book or ask him about it," said the detective fingering the pages, not even listening to his friend. "A brief summary like this won't suffice at all. A lot of details are missing..."

"Sherlock!" cried the doctor.

"John?"

"Listen to me! Under no circumstances will you interrogate Harry about his childhood!" said the doctor resolutely, crossing his arms and daring the detective to protest. "You won't mention his parents, that Voldemort maniac, or his lackeys. You will not say any _potentially_ hurtful comment that may cross your mind – _even_ when you don't think it's hurtful – to provoke a reaction. He has the right to tell us when he wants... or not at all!"

"It was long time ago. And with all the attention he receives, he should be used to people asking him questions," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "And don't forget we are supposed to be integrated into their world. We have every right to find out. It will be for the best to just ask the source – and that's him!"

"Sherlock, not the point!" retorted John heatedly. "People close to him died, no matter how long time ago it was." Then his voice softened, "Look, he _bought_ us those books," he pointed at the piles around them, suddenly remembering they probably should pay back for them. "He must know what's in them. He is definitely not trying to keep this secret from us. Just don't press him."

"Yet he talked about the bank robbery like it was a joke," Sherlock reminded him, not willing to back off. "That surely indicates he wouldn't mind a few questions."

"I occasionally say something that might sound daring and bold and even jesting about Afghanistan too," retorted John. "Trust me, it was _anything_ but funny back then – the humour, it helps to cope. _But_ it definitely is _not_ an invitation to interrogate him about every horrid detail, Sherlock... especially with your usual tact." The detective still didn't look convinced, so the doctor tried to change the tactic. "Just please, don't make Harry hate you. He seems like a nice person and someone who can stand you. That's a rare trait – I'm sure you don't want to lose someone who might be – eventually – a friend. And stop making faces at me! It's not the end of the world to have more than five people that like you. Currently he is also your only link to wizarding world. If you screw this, you have also your access to magic to fear about. Try to remember that, at least."

There were a few moments of contemplative silence, which left John wondering just what exactly the consulting detective was thinking about. He didn't talk for a long time then suddenly he leaped from the couch. "Call the cab," he exclaimed as he marched to his room.

The doctor glanced at the time – suddenly it was time to go. He wondered if Sherlock took his speech to heart, but decided to take his silence as a good sign. After all, the detective would insist that he is right if he thought so, wouldn't he? Instead it seemed like he backed off... and John was very proud of his persuasive skills, indeed.

* * *

**Well despite this being an important chapter as they _finally_ find out, it's really not the best...  
Oh... and the history book is totally an updated version... not the old one that Hermione read in her first year (and the texts are truthful, because I want them to be - and Harry wouldn't let them buy a book that has lies inside it) **


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you all for reading. :) All the follows, favs and reviews make me terribly happy. Here is a new chapter, hope you will find it okay. **

**(Sarah) Thank you, glad to hear that. We shall see soon - at least Sherlock's opinion on that matter.**

**(lulu) Thanks. Yep, it's pretty much given that just 'leaving it' isn't something Sherlock has in mind. **

**(dana-san) Thanks. Glad you think so. :)**

**(the cumbercollective) Thank you for the reviews. I am glad you enjoyed it so far :D**

**(KG86) :) I am happy to hear that. And of course - tell Sherlock he cannot have something (answers and information none the less) - it's like encouraging him :D**

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

At the end John needed to wait for Sherlock to return and borrow his phone as he somehow didn't notice that his was out of power. It was curious - he charged it recently, but now the screen was blank and the phone had refused to start. However he decided not to dwell on it, as they needed to go.

Everything went smoothly after that and they managed to arrive at the appointed place just before the time. There was no one waiting for them yet. John wasn't worried though, he was expecting Harry to show up any minute now...

However when the wizard was five minutes late, he began fidgeting.

Sherlock on the other hand, was just feverishly exchanging texts with someone, apparently not minding waiting at all.

"Who are you texting to?" asked John curiously.

"Lestrade," answered Sherlock promptly. "He is asking if we got something about Milverton or Aurors."

"Damn," cursed John, not really sure when did Sherlock receive the first text from the inspector. He had forgotten about the others until now. What were they going to say? They undoubtedly expected Sherlock to come up with results. "What did you tell him?" he asked

"Variation of the truth," replied Sherlock easily.

John groaned. "And that is?"

"We lost Weasley and then Mycroft came to Baker Street with his case. When he was told about what happened, he refused to help and seek any information about the man, claiming the priority of his problem."

Apparently John didn't need to worry. That will silence the Detective Inspector for now, but still... "We'll need to think of something to tell them by the end of this, Sherlock," he told the detective. "It's not like they will believe you just let it go. Actually, I am surprised Greg didn't complain about your sudden desire to work for Mycroft."

"He _did_ complain," admitted Sherlock. "Actually he is still complaining. And I don't have _any_ desire to work for Mycroft. As I understand it, this Ministry is independent from our government, even if they are keeping in touch... Ah, here comes Harry," he exclaimed suddenly when the man appeared before them ten minutes late.

"I'm sorry," the wizard said without preamble, unlike yesterday when he was wearing normal clothes, today he had similar robes like they had seen in the Alley. Though his was rumpled and John was fairly sure singed on some places too. Harry didn't pay his dishevelled appearance any mind, instead he glanced at the phone in Sherlock's hand and his eyes widened. "Oh," he groaned, "I forgot to tell you. You better turn off your phones. I should have said that yesterday, really – is it okay?" There was a concern on his face.

"Why?" asked Sherlock confusedly. His phone worked just fine.

"Technology doesn't react well when you bring it in places with high concentration of magic. It renders it unusable. Please, turn it off before we go this time."

John just shrugged resignedly, the mystery of his unresponsive phone solved, before he even managed to be truly concerned about it. "Guess mine was not so lucky. Is there any chance it can be repaired?"

"I am afraid I don't know," said Harry, silently cursing his forgetfulness. "Though it's curious Sherlock's is still okay when yours is not. Where did you get it?" he turned to the detective.

"Mycroft," answered Sherlock. "I… lost my old one some months ago."

"Ah," nodded the wizard, ignoring the slight pause in the man's reply. "Interesting, I will need to ask him about that. I'm really sorry," he said to John. "I intend to pay fully for the replacement."

"Oh no," shook his head the doctor. "It's really okay. Besides you paid for everything yesterday and we still..." He reached for his wallet, but Harry stopped him.

"I cannot accept it," he told him, but John seemed determined. At the end they both agreed to just leave it as it is, with Harry not paying for the phone and John and Sherlock keeping the books as a gift.

"Why were you late?" asked the detective after he pocketed his phone, thus successfully distracting his companions.

"Err..." started Harry sheepishly. "Do you remember that kit from yesterday?" John nodded, recalling the gifts. Sherlock merely stared. "Well, it was a pranking kit. My son, James decided it would be hilarious to try the contents on me this morning... Anyway Ginny helped to make me somewhat presentable again – after she stopped laughing her head off, of course."

John wanted to ask what happened, but an impatient huff from Sherlock changed his mind. "So where are we going? And how did you hide a magical building _here_ of all places?" he looked around himself glancing from one official building to another.

Harry just opened the telephone box and beckoned them inside.

"You've got to be kidding me! How are the three of us supposed to fit there?" moaned John. "And are you going to tell me you're hiding a _whole_ Ministry in a phone box! Wait, don't answer that," he stopped Harry's explanation short. "It's bigger on the inside. And you will pilot it to the Ministry!"

"Actually, I was going to say that this is only the visitor's entrance, it's not used all that much. And though there are expansion charms, they will stretch the inside only as much as is necessary, depending on how many people want to get in," corrected Harry. "And we're going underground – the box works like a lift. It doesn't need to be, er... piloted."

"Yes, John," smirked Sherlock, "do be serious. Where do you get such fantastic ideas?"

All three of them stepped in – as Harry said, they managed to fit in without any problem, though that didn't mean it was exactly comfortable.

"Can either of you dial 6-2-4-4-2, please?" asked Harry, because as the last one to step into the booth, he simply couldn't manage it. Sherlock did as requested. Suddenly a detached female voice filled the booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Harry answered in a clear voice. "Head Auror Harry Potter accompanying Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson to complete their official registration as Muggle Investigators under the Auror Department as per Exemption."

"Thank you," answered the voice. "Visitors please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

Sherlock snatched the badges as soon as they slid out of the metal chute that was usually reserved for returned coins. He handed one to John and busied himself with pinning it to his coat. Suddenly the invisible female spoke again, telling them that their _wands_ are to be presented for registration.

"Sorry," muttered Harry. "It's automated... and you know... we don't usually have Muggles here."

After the last announcement they started to descend down. It was very disconnecting to see the street disappear and be replaced by absolute darkness, but thankfully it didn't last long.

Soon the light returned and as the voice wished them a pleasant day, they entered the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. John started to think that he should get used to the fact that every wizarding place is going to be grand. He was trying to take everything in – from the way the place was decorated, to people hurrying around – and they were appearing and disappearing in fireplaces - the green flames lighting the wall! That was just... wow... he wished to go and take a better look, but instead they parted from the crowd and went to the opposite side, where they approached the Security guy stationed in one of the corners, quite abandoned.

"Hi," said Harry. "I'm here with visitors today, but..."

"Morning, Potter," grunted the elder man not even bothering to listen and proceeded to scan Sherlock and John with some kind of golden rod. Then he asked for wands.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," explained Harry. "They are Muggles and received access according to the Exemption. I have the copy of the official document with me if you wish to see."

"So you're _Muggles?!_" he looked shocked, taking the parchment, his eyes flying over the words. "By Merlin's beard! Muggles indeed!"

John didn't like that – so what if they were Muggles?! Even Sherlock was eyeing the man with distaste.

He waved at them dismissively, letting them proceed, but not before he offered his parting words, "The things you young people do nowadays – letting Muggles know! Bringing them here! Mark my words, it won't end well!"

Harry just rolled his eyes and dragged his two companions away from the complaining man and towards the lifts that were located in a smaller hall nearby.

"My department is on Level Two," he told them as they, along with some other people got in one of the lifts that just arrived. That was one of the only things he managed to tell them, before the other witches and wizards flocked around him and started inquiring about one thing or another. Sherlock was not very happy about being ignored. John was just grateful that he and his friend were left alone and thus got the chance to at least peek out whenever the door opened.

Every stop that was made was accompanied by the same voice that they'd heard in the phone box, which announced the Department and Offices located on that particular level. John thought that some of the names were rather silly, others sounded interesting and there was a few of them that just sounded plain old boring. He briefly wondered if they had a book about Ministry back at their flat, while his eyes occasionally landed on the small paper airplanes that were fluttering above their heads leaving and entering the lift as they pleased. Those were quite amusing – little helpful delivery planes (Harry told them that they were used as the means of communication between the departments in the one rare moment when he was left alone for about a second).

John tried to listen to what all those people were talking to him about, but he caught only snippets of it. It wasn't a fluent conversation anyway, because the topic changed every time someone entered or left the elevator and most people were just happy to at least say hello to the man... One of the more memorable encounters was a red-headed man with horn-rimmed glasses, who stepped in at their second stop and while talking to Harry enthusiastically, he somehow still managed to scold him for causing a scene in the Leaky Cauldron. The doctor had no idea how he knew about it, because he didn't remember seeing him there, but then, he may have just missed him. And it wasn't like Harry was the one to blame anyway; John still thought that the Skeeter woman fully deserved what she got...

Finally the cold voice announced 'Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services' and they found themselves stepping into a corridor, leaving all the people in the lift behind.

* * *

**So everything you seem to recognise was taken from OotP chapter 7 - but I tried to change stuff so it's not word from word (who would want to read that?) - I also absolutely omitted to describe the statue in the Atrium (that was on purpose), as I don't think they have Fountain of Magical Brethren anymore (even if it may have been repaired) and they definitely got rid of that thing that was there during Voldemort's reign - and John would be probably more interested in the people using Floo network anyway - any statue/fountain would pale in the light of that.  
And look... another Weasley showed up. Was he recognisable during his terribly brief cameo? :)  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**Once again thanks for reading and all the favs, follows and reviews**

**(HarnGin) Nope, he will not :) I am glad you think so... hope you will like the following chapters too **

**(zeynel) Thank you! Yes, that was only our resident killjoy, Arthur is going to be there soon though - very, very soon ;) So far they are not expected to visit, though they will meet all (or almost all) Weasleys at one point or another**

**(midnight-flurry) Yeah, I know... hopefully it will get better. Hmm... depends on how much you take that comment to heart - he could have been bigot, but as well just one of those old people, that just like to tell you how differently were things done in the past (also some trivia and possible spoiler - Muggles were not allowed to know about wizarding world since 1692 - this is a huge change - he may not be the last who wouldn't be entirely okay with it)**

**(creepyLotRfangirl55) Yes, that was him. Thanks :)**

**(Silvermane1) Yep... Teddy is in school currently - studying feverishly for O.W.L.s (for some reason I think this all is happening sometime in April)**

**(Sarah) So glad you liked it :) That's good - that's exactly what I was aiming for.**

**(Angel4EverLostInLife) As often as I can :)**

**(lulu) Happy to hear you liked it :D Umm... define nicer? John didn't get a chance last time though, I am fairly sure he would be nice enough given the opportunity. Thank you, it's good to hear I am not straying away :)**

**(Jiwa) I'm glad :) Of course, I try to update at least every few days. Hope you will like this chapter too. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 14**

John was really grateful when they got out. As far as he was concerned, it was worse, far worse than in the almost empty Alley yesterday. If the man had it like this every day he was surprised he didn't hole himself in his house and lived as a recluse – it was like standing next to a bloody Queen. And maybe even that was putting it lightly. Everyone just wished to have a word with him, or be near or at least have a look... preposterous.

He shook his head and glanced at the corridor. It was adorned with windows, which was a bit strange, since he was sure they were still underground. But hey, if anyone should have underground windows, then it would be wizards...

"I'm sorry for this," told them Harry the moment the door closed. "It's just..." he trailed off not really sure how to announce his status to them. "It sort of always happens."

"Not surprising," stated Sherlock simply. "We read about you." He didn't even turn from the window he was examining as Harry and John started walking down the corridor.

John sighed, at the blunt way he put it, but it was unavoidable, because by now even the most obtuse person would understand that Harry Potter was someone terribly important for these people. And the wizard would surely have wondered why they were not asking questions after a display like that.

Harry stopped and raised his eyebrows, visibly relaxing, "Oh? That's good then. I didn't expect you to pick up that particular book as the first one to read, but I can't say I'm not relieved you know."

"I didn't," whirled Sherlock around to follow them, after he apparently finished trying to open the window (it didn't budge no matter how hard he pulled). "John did. I daresay he was gobsmacked. He also wants me not to question you extensively - he thought you might not want to relate your story to relative strangers. Though I expect the time we will spend investigating shall be sufficient enough for you to get used to us and be willing to talk on your own. And I wish to stop at a potion shop after we finish the Milverton case. I might require your assistance there."

John smacked his palm on his forehead audibly - the fact that Sherlock was willing to wait until the case was over was only a small mercy, after the lecture he gave him.

"O-okay," said Harry slowly, quite overwhelmed by Sherlock's stream of words. "But why do you want to visit the Apothecary?"

"To gather the necessary items for brewing some of those concoctions from the texts we bought yesterday," the detective told him in a tone that clearly indicated he was not amused by the stupidity of that question.

"But you can't," protested Harry. "That's why I've chosen theory books for everything. You can't do magic. Not even brewing, I'm sorry."

"I suspected as much," replied Sherlock, "regardless, my request still stands. I wish to try it."

"Well, as long as you understand to not expect any passable results," shrugged the wizard as they started walking again. "Just _don't_ drink anything you might create. Mycroft would naturally blame me, so if you can, avoid the poisoning. I'm also not taking any responsibility for blown up cauldrons."

"Wait... wait," started John worriedly, just as they rounded a corner. "What _exactly_ are the potions made of?" He thought he ought to know as it was obviously possible for the brews to be explosive - he will have them in his flat, after all!

But Harry was already opening the door, so he didn't answer. The room was full of cubicles, many of which had the slogan 'Constant Vigilance' on the walls among other things like paper cuttings or photographs. The witches and wizards of varying age that occupied the room, greeted Harry with respect and then returned to their work, occasionally glancing at John and Sherlock with curiosity as all three walked through the room to the door at the other side.

From one of the last cubicles emerged a red-headed man that the duo recognised as Ronald Weasley. He was smiling at first and shouted at Harry that he was late, but once his eyes fell on Sherlock the smile disappeared instantly as he joined them.

"Harry, please tell me he is not who I think he is," he said with a touch of desperation in his voice as they walked out to another corridor.

"I can't say that, that would be lying," replied Harry lightly and then turned towards all three of them. "I believe you already met."

They exchanged pleasantries, though Ron did so grudgingly and Sherlock only behaved because John was breathing down his neck.

"You should have told me _he_ is Sherlock Holmes," hissed Ron at Harry quietly. "Would it be so hard to say 'Hey Ron, the git you just told me about, yeah the one from the Muggle Hospital, that's the detective we're supposed to work with. You will be seeing him tomorrow...'" John needed to strain his ears, but he managed to catch it - he was not sure if he should laugh or frown disapprovingly though.

"I had every intention to do so," Harry told him, not even bothering to quiet his voice, as he unlocked the first door on the corridor with his wand. "But then I decided that _you_'re a git for disregarding your health and don't deserve to have a warning."

"Please," scoffed the ginger. "As if you would have stayed... It wasn't absolutely necessary so I didn't. The bloody Healer was worse than Pomfrey. Besides, I got my bones back together rather quickly. Just needed to be careful for a few hours in the morning, but it went okay – better than if they were missing altogether, you know."

John and Sherlock looked at each other, not sure if they were exaggerating or such injuries were normal in the wizarding world - John as a doctor was especially interested, but they weren't offered any elaboration.

"Ha ha," said Harry as he beckoned them all in and closed the door. "But seriously now, don't do that next time."

They found themselves in a nice simple office with a fireplace and a lot of pictures adorning the walls. There was a stack of parchments on the table and a closed bottle of ink with several quills nearby. Two very nice chairs were situated in front of the desk, same as the one behind it. On the wall behind the desk was a giant window with pleasant morning sun rays streaming into the office – funnily enough, it was entirely different weather as was shown by the windows in the corridor.

"Right, right," grumbled Ron.

"Why don't we sit down?" told Harry his guests. While Sherlock and John sat on the two chairs that were already there, Ron took out his wand and made one for himself. Harry started rummaging his desk, obviously looking for something, but not before he frowned over the sight on his desk. "By the way, thanks for doing the paperwork in my absence," he addressed the redhead, who just shrugged unabashed. "Also before I forget," he continued and stopped throwing things out of his desk for a moment, to look at the detective and his friend, "Is that nice landlady of yours always home? There shall be some spell-work done on your house and it would be better if she is gone."

"Wait, what?" asked John not really comprehending.

"Well, if you agree, we will connect your fireplace to the Floo Network. If nothing else it will make the communication easier. Also there should be some protective spells added – the basic set, I was thinking, nothing elaborate. We're not making a fortress. But you've entered the wizarding world and you will be known. As Muggles in an unprotected house you would be at a disadvantage. As that can be helped, I don't see why not do it."

"What spells are we talking about?" asked Sherlock.

"Hmm... strengthening the locks, so they can't be picked by charms, anti-apparition wards, keying in the Floo and everything connected to it... I assure you that you won't notice the difference. Everything will be left in the same condition, though more secure against magical intruders."

At the end Sherlock and John agreed and informed them that Mrs Hudson visited Mrs Turner from next door quite often, so it shouldn't be any problem.

"Brilliant," said Harry as he returned to his self-appointed task of desk-searching.

"How will we let you know when you can come in?" asked Sherlock, quite aware of the fact that there was no quick way to contact the wizards so far.

"Oh, I have a landline at home," said Harry. "Just remind me to give you the number – you can call and everything will be taken care of - someone will get to Baker Street almost instantly."

John was listening only partially, he was too busy being entranced by the moving pictures on the wall. There were various people there – he spied Harry and a redheaded woman that must have been his wife with four kids (one of those had a crazy hair-colour clearly going through rebellious teenage stage). The children on single portraits too... then Weasley, Harry and some bushy-haired woman... those three in the company of another three people, one of which was Harry's wife... picture full of redheads and many more. And they all moved! They waved at him and winked and laughed... He wished to have one in his hand and inspect it closely.

"Aha!" cried Harry victoriously and put some file on his desk. "It was there for so long that it almost drowned under other papers." He turned it upside down and two silver plates in the size of common business cards fell on his open palm. Then he pulled out two pieces of parchment. "This is yours," he said as he walked towards Sherlock and John to hand them the plates. John inspected it carefully. The engraving read:

_-__  
__Dr. John Watson_  
_Auror Office_  
_Muggle Liaison_  
_-_

There was also a faint impression of the symbol he saw upon entering this building – M with what he guessed was a wand in the middle of the letter – that became visible only from a certain angle.

"Better not lose those and take them with you everywhere. Who knows when you will need them," warned them Harry. "And at last, I will need you to sign the parchments on the table about receiving your identifications."

When they managed to produce passable signatures - after a few rather clumsy attempts on a blank parchment, because no one had a pen and they needed to use one of the quills - Harry signalled to Ron that he could explain what was known about the Milverton case so far. The redhead didn't even manage to open mouth properly, when there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," cried Harry and an elder wizard with a bald patch and greying red hair around the temples came in.

"Hello," he said as he took in the room.

"Arthur!" said Harry smiling. "What brought you here? Let me introduce you – this is Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. Gentlemen, Arthur Weasley – The Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

"Pleasure to meet you," beamed Arthur. "So you're Muggles?" Though it was the same question it was vastly different from the way the guy in Atrium asked – for one it sounded as if the fact they were ones meant they were the best thing since sliced bread. "It's great to have you. I heard all about you... even saw some of your stories! The famous detective and the doctor that helps him. It's really good to finally meet you in person. If you wouldn't mind me asking... what exactly is 'blog'. Some kind of Muggle newspapers? Harry said people read the stories there."

John, not really knowing what to say, smiled uncertainly.

"Did you want something, Dad?" asked Ron

"Ah, yes," nodded Arthur. "Williamson directed me here. Ron, I need your statement about the raid two days ago. You were out all day yesterday, so I didn't catch you and didn't really want to go and bother you with work at home. You have it?"

The younger Weasley nodded, "Yeah, left it in my desk - first drawer. How's Dung?"

"Ah, he's fine. Shaken a bit I reckon. Said he will never again get mixed with the Ministry, but you know him - he always says that. He will steal anything that can be moved, but if he stumbles upon something nefarious, he will tell so others can handle it and scramble away to safety at the earliest opportunity."

"Yeah, sounds like him," replied Ron. "Dad, you wouldn't mind fetching the report yourself, would you? We were just about to go over a case. I need to stay."

"No problem," said the man and before he left he turned towards the duo of Muggles. "Hopefully I will see you around," and then he nodded towards Harry and Ron. "Molly is excited about the dinner tomorrow, boys. Don't let yourself to be too caught up in work."

"Too caught up in work," muttered Ron good-naturedly after he left, "I'm not the one who brings 'work' home and drives Mum mad with the tinkering. What's his latest project anyway?"

"I believe," replied Harry, "that it's my poor motorbike."

"He borrowed it _again_?" asked Ron surprised. "Oh, Mum will go nuts when she finds out! Well, your problem mate, wait till she gets her clutches on you... but that's enough of chatter, we should finally get on with this." He took a piece of parchment from one of his pockets and unfolded it.

John was watching the banter with amusement. Wait... did that mean Harry and Ron were related? Then he remembered that he mentioned some Molly as his mother-in-law to Mrs Hudson... but that was all irrelevant as he needed to concentrate on the case now.

* * *

**To make things clearer... Arthur has no idea what blog is because he saw John's entries only printed on paper when Harry brought them to show to people - no working computers or laptops at the Ministry I am afraid, so it needed to be done this way. Also I returned him his old job (because he just loved it)... though he is paid a lot better and has a smashing office nowadays (at least in this story)**  
**Also I am afraid that Ron and Sherlock won't see eye to eye for quite some time - and it will get worse at first (it will get better later though) - just saying so you'll be prepared for it. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for the follows, favs and especially reviews. You're brilliant. **

**(NyGi) That is so true :) **

**(lulu) I'm glad you do and thank you for the praise :) Well, John will be definitely the nicer one - I don't really think he will have any problem with Ron - They will probably end up on good terms when John finally manages to have a word or two with him. The medical side will be explained (if there will be situation that requires it) about as much as it was explained to us - so probably only very vaguely :(**

**(HarnGin) Oh, I can certainly say they will not be exactly friendly towards each other (I even tried to write a civil conversation, but both characters refused to cooperate - how is that possible I don't know). They will get better though. Oh, no worries - we'll be (finally) starting on the case with next chapter yay :D**

**(forTheLoveOfHades) I'm glad you think so.**

**(dana-san) Depends what he will be brewing... and what will John allow him to buy ;) Thanks... I always somehow migrate towards John without even noticing. **

**(goanago) I am glad! Thank you :)**

**(Silvermane1) Thanks**

**(Sarah) Glad you liked it. Umm... yes... the duos... *whistles innocently* (I swear it's just temporary)**

**(zeynel) Thanks! I bet that too - I should probably switch to Sherlock in one of the next chapters to show what he is thinking. Yeaaah... it will take time for Sherlock to revise his opinion about Ron, but he will, if I have to say something about it (which I have)! Also I am sorry, I probably wrote it in a confusing manner (please, let me know how can I correct it) - it was John thinking Teddy is a rebelling teenager - doesn't make the assumption any less wrong though. But Sherlock would definitely be fascinated by those powers - I fear for Teddy (thank goodness he is in school)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

"So Milverton," started Ron, giving his notes a fleeting glance. "He was murdered with Killing Curse in the house he rented for the last three years during the night of April 23rd – the time of the death was estimated before midnight. Was discovered in the morning by the housekeeper, when she went to clean the bedroom as usual. Apparently, Milverton kept the same schedule for every day and was usually gone from his house by eight in the morning. She always entered about fifteen minutes after he left. I talked to her - at first she thought he merely overslept, but when she found out that was not the cause she called the Muggle Healers. Of course, they couldn't have done anything for the man. She was terribly distraught over what happened and not at all informative." Ron shrugged, "I found her on the way to the train station - she refused to stay in the close proximity to the house where someone died. When she pieced together that I was there because it was a murder she practically fled, mumbling something about vengeful spirits – I doubt she is acquainted with the wizarding world though, because she would have known that Milverton definitely cannot become a ghost, but it made me wonder if she may have encountered some in the past or was just that superstitious. Not that it really matters; I doubt she has anything to do with this. But in the case we would need to see her again, I have her address noted down."

John, while listening to all the facts, spluttered at the casual mention of ghosts. Did that mean they were real? He shuddered... just how many of the ghost stories around the city were suddenly real? Even Sherlock raised an eyebrow, probably wanting to argue about scientific impossibility of the existence of apparitions.

Ron didn't pay them any mind, just continued his narration, "The neighbours didn't report anything strange, but that was to be expected. The murderer could have apparated right in the house, without anyone being the wiser. We also have no information about anyone magical living in the area. But with the revelation of Milverton's occupation, I think that it's okay to hazard a guess that he discovered some information connected to the wizarding world and his intended victim didn't take it well. Though of course that alone seems like a very weak motive – but let's just assume for now that it was at least a part of it."

Harry was nodding along. He heard all this yesterday when he called his friend, so now the facts were mostly listed for Sherlock and John's benefit – but it was good to hear it once again.

"What did you discover in the house?" asked Sherlock.

The ginger shook his head. "I spent my time looking for everyone who spent time with Milverton after his death plus the neighbours – it was needed not only to find out if they noticed something that may help, but to make sure no one suspects magical interference in his death. Didn't inspect the house yet. Anyway, it was..."

"How could you not examine the crime scene... what is it – three days after the murder was committed?" asked the detective disbelievingly. "How do you know the owner didn't enter the house in the meantime? Didn't have it cleaned? Especially since this is actually a cause of natural death as far as the non-wizarding community is concerned - nothing is stopping him! Thanks to you we probably lost all the evidence that was there!"

Ron glanced at him, surprised at the accusation, "Do you really think I would just leave it like that?"

"Wouldn't be surprised," muttered Sherlock.

"_And_ if you're concerned about not following the standard routine take it to your brother!" continued the Auror scathingly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sherlock glared at the man.

"Nothing at all," retorted Ron, glaring back. "Why don't you make a deduction if you want to know so much?"

"That's enough!" exclaimed Harry frowning at them. "Both of you stop right now!"

"He started it. I was being polite and he had a go at me without a reason... _again_!" grumbled Ron.

"And you're _supposed_ to be a highly trained investigator," shot Sherlock back. "Yet again and again I am proven right in wondering just how you managed to get this position."

"I said that's enough!" repeated Harry with much more force than before. "We will need to get along, so I strongly recommend forgetting this petty feud of yours. We're adults, so for Merlin's sake behave like ones!"

Ron, and even Sherlock, silenced themselves and let the man talk, recognising that right now was not the time to argue back.

"Look," continued Harry who at one point stood up and firmly planted his hands on the table, leaning on them as he gazed at others, "I understand this is quite difficult and unusual situation for everyone. Sherlock, John, you're expected to adapt to a whole new world in a matter of days. Ron, we're expected to actually allow them to help as opposed to going behind every Muggle's back. So this can end either extremely well or as a complete disaster. I would rather avoid the second option, so _please_," he emphasised still carrying the authoritative voice, "at least a minimal effort would be appreciated. We're on the same side here after all, _aren't we_?"

The Auror and the detective both nodded, though it was obvious neither was very enthusiastic about it.

"Great," said the dark-haired wizard. "Now, the examination of Milverton's house was being held until everyone is gathered," he looked pointedly at Sherlock, "and it shall be visited now. You don't need to worry about the place being disturbed during that time, It was left empty after the housekeeper left and of course the necessary precautions were done so it stayed that way, as you would have known had you let Ron finish." He then turned to his friend, "Ron, you were already there, so I believe you can take them without any problem." Harry took a deep calming breath, "You will cooperate and you will _not_ undermine each other's work. There is plenty we can learn by working alongside each other and we _will_ take advantage of that. Any questions?"

"Wait, you're not going?" asked Ron, sneaking uneasy glances at the detective. He was not bothered that much by Harry's change of demeanour - he saw worse, but he was still panicking a bit about the possibility of being left alone with one of the Holmes brothers - he liked to avoid the elder one and apparently the younger was just as bad. "I swear, I will try to work with him, but Harry, shouldn't you, I dunno, be there too?"

"Sadly," retorted the Head Auror, as he sat back down, "I was left with quite a lot of paperwork." Ron cursed, eyeing the blasted parchments. "Besides this is a prime opportunity for you to start getting along."

"Or crash the whole thing," muttered John to himself, he rather thought Harry counted on this case to end well, but this seemed like the quickest way to ruin it - not that he really wanted to argue with the wizard.

"Or that," admitted Harry catching what was said, still piercing Ron and Sherlock with his gaze. "But I trust you all enough to know you will not jeopardize this and will bring back some results."

"You knew you wouldn't be going with us from the start," accused him Sherlock throwing glares at the red-head.

"It's Ron's case," the wizard told him in a firm voice. "I'm not taking it from him just because you were added to the equation – no matter what you may think about it and no matter what Mycroft suggested. I told you before, Ron is very capable and there is no need for my constant surveillance. You also cannot expect that it will always just be me you will be dealing with in the wizarding world. Take it as a test – if you're incapable of cooperating with other Aurors and officials, some things shall be reconsidered."

They held a staring contest, but at the end Sherlock nodded curtly. John for a good measure quietly added, "We understand," while he was secretly re-evaluating what he knew about Harry Potter until now. He couldn't help but feel like he was facing one of his superiors. Before, he may have briefly wondered how Harry, with such an easy-going attitude managed not to be eaten alive in the position he held, but now he fully saw what was only hinted in a few instances until now – one may have thought him to be a pushover, but they only got as far as they were allowed, as Harry was the one who had the real grip on the situation. Hell, even Sherlock was silenced into submission for a moment, but he was obviously not happy about how things were turning out.

"Well..." started Ron awkwardly – both pleased by the praise he got from his friend and devastated that it meant he would need to deal with the detective. "Ehm... I shall go and get ready. Can't go like this to a Muggle neighbourhood." He glanced at his robes as he stood up and disappeared in a flash.

"You cannot force him on us," said Sherlock before the door even closed. "I abhor incompetence. You may say he can keep up, but I assure you he will only hinder us."

John wished his friend would just shut up. He was sure something must have caused him to develop a memory loss, because he clearly pointed out to Skeeter yesterday that picking on people close to Harry was a sure way to ruffle his feathers.

Harry was sure that shouting out of frustration or banging his head on the desk (both of which he felt like doing) wouldn't be very professional or even effective in the long run. The only thing that stopped him from overreacting (well... too much) was the desensitization born from knowing Mycroft – he was far worse than Sherlock could even hope to be during the first few times they met (true he was doing it on purpose, while Sherlock said what he genuinely believed in, but that was neither here nor there). So clearly no matter how much he tried, changing Sherlock's mind about Ron by mere talking would be impossible. Explaining over and over that he is one hell of an Auror was doing little good. Heck, they even admitted knowing about their past... had they skipped the parts with Ron? That is why he was hoping that by having them to work together they would find a common ground - that is, if he managed to actually make them to work together...

"You don't do this to Muggle police," he said at last, thinking he found a way how to make Sherlock listen. He raised his hand to silence the detective who wanted to inform him just _how_ he usually behaves with police. "Oh, I know – you're capable of withholding the evidence if you think it's necessary... manipulating your clients as well as friends... breaking into places instead of waiting for warrants and more – Mycroft didn't leave me in the dark. He wanted to be sure I would be aware of your methods – _all_ of them, even the less savoury – possibly to make sure I just don't stop this over something you do. _But_ he never mentioned you are openly hostile towards the leading Inspector. Not saying a word about the rest of the team, but you never _completely_ disregard the man in charge – because your access to the case depends on that and you know it. That is the reason you usually follow the rules, even if it is just so-so." He steepled his fingers and gazed at Sherlock trying to relay the message. "Ron is the equivalent of Detective Inspector now. Do not forget that."


	16. Chapter 16

**All the posted chapters are now reposted. This is also the only chapter that has a part of the story corrected (again), otherwise it was only the grammar. **

**Thank you for still reading this :) All the follows, favs and reviews are greatly appreciated. **

**(forTheLoveOfHades) Thank you! Harry is rather cool like that. Even Sherlock Homes cannot do anything against it :)**

**(goanago) Thanks :D**

**(Goodu) True, he was not as childish and openly rude, but he knew how to deliver masterful subtle insults :) It was brilliant when he did that. That said, I like them both and though BBC Sherlock has some of original Sherlock traits exaggerated, I for some reason think he is perfect for the century we live in. Of course that doesn't mean his 'I know the best' attitude cannot land him in a lot of trouble in the wizarding world.**

**(Sarah) Thank you. :)**

**(agirlgeek144) I'm glad you found and liked it :) Hermione and Ginny are both planned to appear - though I am not really sure how far are we from there (I would say around 5 chapters might me more or less though, I tend to change things a lot) I don't know, I was not thinking about Pensieve - the details from Harry's past will be left mostly to comment here and there during the actual case, but who knows what will Sherlock be up to once he gets bored? **

**(midnight-flurry) I'm glad you do :) Maybe it got, but I doubt he likes Ron any better yet :/**

**(zeynel) I am glad you like it :) Yeah, poor Ron, left to deal with Sherlock. Not much will be shown in this chapter, but I agree with you. **

**(lulu) Thanks :) Yeah, that was bound to happen sooner or later - what was Sherlock thinking, of course Harry would take his best friend's side. Absolutely - the moment they start digging details about Harry's past, finding out the entirety of Ron's (and others) involvement would be practically unavoidable. **

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**(imkerfuffled) :D Thanks I appreciate it a lot (and of course Mycroft shall be in! He is awesome) **

* * *

**CHAPTER 16**

The Muggle duo left the office on less friendly terms than when they entered... or at least Sherlock did. John didn't actually think it was wrong of Harry if he wanted them to cooperate with others. It was naive to think he would always have time for them. He was the Head of the Department; it was actually a miracle that he had the time until now.

Sherlock would just need to get used to that – the wizard was right, it wasn't like he didn't work with many Inspectors from Scotland Yard – this was no different. The only thing John wasn't so sure about was the sink or swim approach, but Harry was the one in charge, if he thought it could work, who was he to complain?

Just as the doctor imagined, Sherlock didn't share his opinion – at all. He was determined to reach the conclusion of this case before Weasley and show him just how inept he was. He didn't doubt for a second that it would be no problem at all - not even talking about the fact that he seemed rather dim-witted, the redhead may have the advantage of knowing the wizarding world perfectly, but in the Muggle world he was rather lost. Could Sherlock be blamed for taking advantage of that, when the man in question didn't even bother to do his research? The detective also made a mental note to talk to Mycroft again – his habit of sharing information about him was definitely getting out of hand, through this time it was more annoying than dangerous...

Weasley waited for them, trying and failing to appear nonchalant as he led them trough the Auror filled room back towards the lift. He did change his clothes, just as he said and was sporting the same suit he had yesterday, though this time he omitted the tie entirely, probably deciding it was not worth the trouble.

Both, Sherlock and John, noticed that though it lacked the annoying star-struck craze that accompanied Harry, most of the people hurried to nod respectfully towards the Auror upon seeing him.

Soon enough, they found themselves back in the Atrium, but here Weasley hesitated and didn't immediately take them towards the phone box lift.

"What's the matter?" asked John. It was the first time someone spoke since the three of them left Harry. The doctor feared the Auror would be resentful towards them (the animosity between Sherlock and Weasley was sort of obvious), but thankfully that was not the case. Apparently, he decided to pretend the whole thing in the office and yesterday in the morgue didn't happen... and that was just fine by John.

"Oh," replied the man frowning in the direction of the many fireplaces, "I was just deciding if we should use Muggle or wizarding transportation. I think it would be better if we just take a cab though."

"What is the other option?" asked John somewhat eagerly, hoping he might convince him to go for it... what were the chances of it being a broomstick?

"I think the most important thing to ask is where exactly are we going?" interjected Sherlock.

"Appledore Towers, Hampstead," replied the redhead curtly not even turning towards the detective, as he proceeded to explain things to John (okay, so maybe he decided to pretend _Sherlock_ doesn't exist, not their disagreement). "Well, I had this idea that we might use a side-along apparition, but you might not react well as you've never used it, and of course there are two of you, which makes it even harder... So, at the end the cab would probably be a better idea."

"But this apparition... what it is?" asked the doctor.

"Well, disappearing from one place and appearing elsewhere. Just the official terms are apparition and disapparition," explained the wizard.

John thought so and just wanted to have it confirmed, least he makes a fool of himself. He was also getting more and more excited. "Like teleporting? You can _teleport_? And take other people with you?"

"Well, obviously," said Sherlock, feeling slightly left out. "How do you expect he disappeared from the alley next to Bart's?"

"How do you..." started Weasley.

"We followed you," the detective informed him dryly. "We wanted to know more about Aurors. At that time the idea of teleportation wasn't on my mind, so we lost you... at the end it didn't even matter."

"I am for using the apparition instead of a cab," said John suddenly.

Sherlock nodded. "It indeed seems like the fastest way. And one you would use were we not here. As you heard, you're to include us in wizarding matters, not change your ways to what Muggles do."

"It's not that... I wasn't thinking," told them Weasley. Sherlock smirked at the statement, to which the wizard replied with a glare, but surprisingly managed to keep his voice even, "I mean, there is the matter of splinching. And the cab ride won't take that much time... what is it? About twenty-five minutes?"

"And splinching is...?" started John.

"Leaving behind a part of the body – it sometimes happens, if you're not prepared for it, or if you're under difficult circumstances. And while it wouldn't be a problem to put you back together, I would rather move on with the investigation than go back to Mungo's so soon."

The doctor would have liked to think that the wizard wasn't being completely serious and was just making stuff up to change their mind, but he wasn't completely convinced, as a lot of exaggerated things that were mentioned so far were true at the end. And what in the world was Mungo's – some kind of hospital?

"And if you'll need to apparate us later?" Sherlock unknowingly halted John's question. He wouldn't back off – he didn't care how dangerous the man thought it was, he would be damned if he let Weasley convince them to forget about showing them how wizards apparate.

"Why would I need to do that?" challenged the Auror.

"Is that so hard to imagine a scenario like that?" scoffed the detective. The Head Auror wouldn't be nearly as difficult to be persuaded to see Sherlock's point of view, but instead they were stuck with this one. "What if we are cornered by someone and need to depart quickly? Would those be ideal circumstances under which apparition should be tried for the first time?" he drawled.

"I suppose. It's unlikely though..." replied Weasley reluctantly.

"Wait," started John who, despite wanting to try it (and wanting it badly), wasn't entirely without the sense of self-preservation. He also didn't wish to have another limb damaged – despite Weasley's conviction that anything can be remedied rather quickly, he wasn't sure it was just that easy, especially since he didn't _see_ any proof of wizarding medical knowledge yet. As far as he was concerned they were rather backwards in this matter – the scene in the mortuary was a proof of that. "Is it really that dangerous?"

Weasley shrugged, "It happens from time to time. But even if everything goes well, it's rather uncomfortable…"

"If it was such a common occurrence, it wouldn't be used daily," said Sherlock. It calmed John a bit. His friend was right – there were masses disappearing and in the Atrium and not a single person seemed to be reporting any damage.

"Fine," said Weasley defeated and led them through the sea of people towards the fireplaces, but before they reached them he changed his direction slightly and led them to a corner close to them. It was only there that John noticed slightly discoloured lines on the floor, though he saw a mass of people concentrated around this place, it didn't occur to him before that this is also a travelling point, just like the fireplaces. Now that he was close there was no doubt. Sherlock probably already knew, because John was the only one who was staring at the people popping in and out in wonder.

"For side-along apparition you need to hold tightly onto me – don't slip up. It doesn't take much time, but you might feel like suffocating for a second. It will pass the moment we arrive at our destination and it's nothing dangerous, that's just how it works – the important thing is not to panic." As he stood between the two Muggles, he pointed at the fireplaces with people disappearing and appearing engulfed in green flames. "Don't mind those. That is the Floo Network. It's another method of travelling, I think Harry will explain it later since he wants to install it in your house, but for now we can forget about it. It may be easier to use, but Milverton was a Muggle, his fireplace is useless. But if you won't adapt to apparating, then you will have no other choice – well, maybe except for the Knight Bus, if someone would hail it for you."

With those words he let the men to grip his forearms (and wonder what exactly a Knight Bus is) and turned on his feet. John soon felt how the arm he was holding twisted and he clutched tightly to it. Then everything went black and not only did he have trouble breathing, but his head throbbed painfully and the pressure on his chest was more than uncomfortable.

Suddenly both men found themselves taking a large breaths of air and their knees were shaking a bit. Weasley freed himself from their grips, but they didn't even notice that properly.

"Steady," said the redhead as he guided the doctor towards a wall where leaned himself, trying to get rid of the ringing sensation in his ears and queasy feeling in his stomach. Through his misty eyes he saw Weasley approach Sherlock hesitantly, but the man just glared at him from his slightly crouched position, so he was left to fend for himself, though truth to be told he wasn't faring much better than John.

"Remind me to listen to you when you say we should take a cab in the future," wheezed the blond after a few seconds.

"Why? I think it went rather well. Some people can't apparate at all – not even side-along," said the Auror. "And even though it takes time to get used to it, I think you'll have no problem with that. Plus, you'll know what to expect next time."

"Oh Lord," groaned John, "please let there be no next time."

"That was rather… more uncomfortable that I expected," said Sherlock as he finally regained his composure. He truly wasn't expecting it to have such effect on him, but it seemed like Weasley's words back at the Ministry were truthful and not just his attempt to get out of something. He briefly wondered about those other wizarding methods of transport – were they all so shocking or was apparition the worst of them?

John threw him a look as if to say 'Noo?! Really?!' He wished to have something to say about stating obvious, just like Sherlock liked to, but his mind was blank.

"You were warned," Weasley reminded them. "Well, we should be going, if you both feel all right," he said as he waved towards the street.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks for all the follows, favs and reviews :)**

**(forTheLoveOfHades) I'm glad you think so. Probably... though then he would have to deal with Mycroft (because he ****_would_**** find out, no doubt about it) :)**

**(SeverusDmitri18) I am glad you like it, though I will probably disappoint you - neither Holmes is dating Harry. I'm trying to follow canon, so Harry is happily married to Ginny**

**(zeynel) Thank you! :)**

**(Zarathustra46) Aw, my memory... I honestly remembered only the apparition parts. But I reread the DH chapter properly and you're absolutely right. I changed it to make it more book-like (hopefully). And thank you for telling me about the mistake, I will try to pay more attention from now on. Glad you like the story otherwise. Thanks again.**

**(Sarah) I'm glad :) Depends how much time they will have during the case - and what questions will be asked. I expect bits and pieces mentioned here and there - and not only from 7th year. Later there may be chapters focusing only on what Sherlock and John discover about their wizarding acquaintances. **

**(KG86) I'm glad you like it :D I am sure if things go south, John can handle it... or even prevent that.**

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**(CaitlinNicDhiarmaid)Thanks, I am glad. Yeah, I reread the chapter and got where my mistake was. Thank you for the help :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 17**

"So which house is it?" asked John as they emerged from the alley. He looked around - thankfully not many people were around, but it still left John wondering if it wouldn't raise suspicion when the three of them entered a house they had no business to be in. He pushed that worry behind – between Sherlock and Weasley's magic they would surely find a way how not to get arrested. Even more so since he remembered Greg mentioning Aurors mixing with Muggles occasionally - that meant they had some sort of cover story they used... right?

"The big one on the left," Weasley pointed at one of the houses across the road – unsurprisingly it was the most expensive looking one (though others weren't far behind).

John whistled, "He certainly had money to spare if he was able to rent this. But isn't it a bit excessive – just for one man, I mean." The garden that came with the house was beautiful and there was a stone pavement leading towards the house. And though most of the building was obscured by trees, the visible parts just screamed 'money'.

"You're right. He didn't need it. He was just flaunting his money," said Sherlock looking at the house in disgust. "So proud of his _achievements_, he just couldn't help but display his wealth, could he? Concerned parties knew exactly where all that money came from and trembled not to become his newest 'sponsors', while others thought him to be only a wealthy businessman. And so clever at hiding any trails leading to him…"

John rarely heard Sherlock talk like this – sure, he _did_ dislike people, and wasn't afraid to voice it, but it usually happened only after having some sort of a clash with them. But he admitted to never meeting Milverton in person – did that mean Sherlock was actually displaying this attitude on behalf of the blackmailer's victims?

"Oh, I wish I could have got him while he was still alive. But he managed to elude even me on the few occasions I tried to have a look at his _business_," finished the detective in a mix of wonder and resentment.

John sighed… yeah, that explained it... "But why would he be living in a rented house, I doubt he would have a problem buying it."

"What for?" Sherlock dismissed the idea. "It's easier to move when he just rents it. Trust me, he needed to do that quite a few times." Suddenly he narrowed his eyes and turned towards Weasley, "Didn't you say the housekeeper left?!"

"She did…" he started, but as he followed Sherlock's gaze, he groaned, "Oh, Merlin… but the charms _should_ work, she will be gone soon."

And really - a nervous looking young woman was walking towards the house, then it looked like she changed her mind about approaching it and started walking in the opposite direction... but the luck was not with them. After a few steps she noticed them watching the house and she obviously recognized the Auror, because she raised her hand in greeting and crossed the road as soon as it was possible.

Oh, Mr Weasley," she cried when she approached them. "Whatever are you doing here again?" Her eyes widened upon seeing his companions. "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson," she said breathlessly, glancing from one to the other. "So it _was_ a murder! I thought so! And now you are here. My employer didn't believe me when I told him Mr Milverton was murdered and the place should be left. He said it –"

"No such thing," interrupted her Sherlock, though he managed to do so charmingly, giving her a bright smile. "Though I heard Mr Milverton's occupation might have been a bit questionable, so I understand your concern, but Mr Weasley assured us that it was a mere heart attack. And while it's unfortunate, I fear there is nothing I can help with."

The Auror just blinked at the man's weird behaviour and closed his mouth, swallowing whatever reply he might have prepared. John wanted to tell him that it was quite normal for Sherlock to act nicer than his usual self and not to be alarmed, but couldn't without getting the woman's attention.

She seemed to be quite enamoured by the consulting detective, nodding at his every word. The doctor was sure she followed the blog and the newspapers too, though they stopped appearing there so frequently now.

"Oh, Mr Milverton's business was more than questionable!" she exclaimed. "But why else would you be here if it's not a murder? Though Mr Dorking - he owns the house - also thinks it was just a heart attack."

"We just came to have a look at the house," said Sherlock simply. "It's a nice place. _Right_ John?"

"Umm… yes?" hesitated John, then cleared his throat, hoping he understood his friend's plan correctly, "I mean, yes, of course! We… umm… had a disagreement with our landlady... yesterday? – You understand; she had enough of the crazy experiments going on and there was also not enough space for those in the flat. Then Mr Weasley here told us about this location so we thought we'd give it a look as the landlady wants us gone as soon as possible. Though of course we don't want to hurry things up, we just came to have a look..."

"Quite a terrible misunderstanding. The experiments are harmless," countered Sherlock giving John a brief glare. "But it's a happy coincidence that we would find someone who could tell us everything about the house and its previous inhabitant. So we can be sure if we want to contact the owner and not bother him without a reason. Of course only if you have the time, Miss...?"

"Agatha Miles, but call me Agatha, please," she told them.

"In that case, I'm Sherlock," he retorted. "So what brought you back Agatha? Mr Weasley informed me you left in a hurry last time you were here."

"Oh, I did!" she replied suddenly flushed, remembering the injustice. "But Mr Dorking said that the fact the tenant died doesn't mean I am off duty. I told him that it might be a murder though! It was just soo suspicious. Have you seen Mr Milverton? No? Well, let me assure you that despite his physique and smoking he was healthy as a horse – it simply couldn't have been a heart attack! Either way, I told Mr Dorking to treat the house carefully, in case Mr Milverton had unfinished business here. Oh, I shouldn't say bad things about the dead. I should not! But he was that sort of the man, you know – one who would manage to find a way how to torment others from beyond a grave, but Mr Dorking didn't listen to me at all. Told me to stop believing in stupid fables! And stop making up stories about Mr Milverton. Ha! Would you believe that? Is it my fault, he didn't know just whom he housed?"

"That surprises me! I would expect someone with such an estate to do more background checks..." Sherlock shook his head solemnly, gazing at Agatha. "Would you care to join me for a walk around the neighbourhood and tell me more? John and Mr Weasley wouldn't mind waiting for us, right?" He turned towards his companions for affirmation.

Weasley was just staring at the detective in disbelief – definitely wondering why the man decided to go for a walk in the middle of investigation. And John didn't answer as he was too busy fighting a sudden coughing fit. Oh, God, he thought. What was he hoping to achieve? Sherlock's behaviour should have raised warning bells from the start, but somehow John missed the signs – he just hoped it was still salvageable without giving the woman some false hopes. "Sherlock, you cannot just bother..." started the doctor really wanting to stop it this instant, but Agatha answered at the same time.

"Oh," she glanced at John briefly, something flickering in her eyes, but nodded, "all right. I guess you need to know the place if you're considering living here, right?"

With that they left, while the woman was happily chattering and pointing here and there, while the detective nodded along. Soon they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

"What... was that?" asked Weasley stunned.

"Well, I've seen him to pretend sometimes to coax the witnesses to reveal something, but _this_ is a whole new level," replied John still kind of dazed.

"And what are we supposed to do now?!" asked the Auror in exasperation. "We cannot go inside without him."

Oh my, thought John. And here he was hoping there would be no more arguments. "Well... we could have a look at the house from outside?" he offered feebly. Weasley gave him such a look that he didn't bother with other ideas, but they crossed the road anyway, silently deciding they should wait for the detective there.

When they were only a few steps from the house, John felt an inexplicable urge to turn away and go to have a look at Mrs Hudson's problematic Hoover she mentioned last week, but Weasley dragged him towards the gate where he inconspicuously waved the wand and the feeling was gone in a whiff. The doctor understood that those were the same enchantments that prevented Agatha from entering. It would be an awkward return home, if Weasley let him go - not only he had no idea how to repair malfunctioning Hoovers... but Sherlock would definitely have a thing or two to say about his sudden decision to leave...

"Is he doing this on purpose?" burst out the Auror suddenly, glancing at his watch after a few moments of awkward silence "To show me that I can't get rid of him no matter what bloody thing he might do?"

"What do you mean?" John took the opportunity to start a conversation - no matter how ill-advised that might have been - it was still better than the silence.

"You want to tell me that Harry didn't explain it?" asked the redhead sounding surprised.

"Well, he told us that you're like a Detective Inspector and _can_ forbid Sherlock from accompanying you," said John confused.

"Well true," shrugged Weasley. "It can be done, but I doubt I would do that... It's all Holmes' fault," he said, then elaborated upon seeing John's raised eyebrows. "I mean the other Holmes, Mycroft – I don't know why Harry stands him – or _how_ for that matter, but he gave him a promise that Sherlock would gain the permission to know ages ago. This whole thing was Holmes' idea from the start and he made sure it was supported by the right people. Having the detective denied the opportunity to show his skills now would be destroying all the work that was put into this – I don't care about Mycroft, but he roped a lot of great people into this, _including_ Hermione and Harry, so I will at least try to make this work!" he vowed. "But it's taking a lot of effort. I mean it is not the idea to strengthen the cooperation between wizards and Muggles, that I am wary of... it's the person they chose for that purpose. Even if we all bend backwards who is to say Sherlock Holmes won't ruin it all by himself?!"

John could definitely respect that – such loyalty to friends. He even ignored the comment about Sherlock – it wasn't like he was blind to how difficult his friend could behave. "He won't," he assured the Auror. "He would never jeopardize this chance."

The wizard just shrugged, not truly believing it, but he didn't start another rant - instead he lapsed into silence again.

There was another thing that caught John's attention and as it didn't seem like Weasley had anything else to say, he brought it up. "So _Mycroft_ approached you, _not_ the other way around?" he asked, recalling the detective's comments about his brother being excited about the whole thing. Did the man know how interested Sherlock would be and make all this possible simply to make his brother happy? That didn't sound like Holmes behaviour at all – doing something just because of that... on the other hand it was exactly like Holmes to contrive elaborate and nearly impossible thing instead of just letting someone know they care like a normal human being – it was simply easier for them.

"Well yeah," replied the redhead. "After he convinced Harry - or more like wore him down - he left the promotion of that idea to him, correctly assuming that once Harry agreed, things would go more or less smoothly."

"So how did Harry and Mycroft became friends... they are friends, aren't they?" asked John.

"I guess... yeah," shrugged Weasley. "If you accept the fact that Mycroft Holmes is capable of feeling a genuine friendship towards someone."

"I'm still working on it," admitted John truthfully.

"Don't worry about it," retorted the Auror waving his hand dismissively. "It's been years and I am still waiting for the catch. Especially considering their first meeting."

"What happened?" asked the Doctor eagerly - he knew it didn't go as smoothly as Harry tried to tell them.

"I don't know much," said Weasley, "but from what Harry said he had a file on him. Stuff from his past – mostly stupid nonsense, because not only is it hard for Muggles to get information about wizards, it's even harder to avoid lies about Harry – no matter if you're wizard or Muggle. Only a few books have his story down more or less truthfully, but even those leave a good chunk out - but at least they don't add some drivel. So, Holmes wasn't exactly nice about what he found. But why he didn't ask the bloody Minister of Magic, who's known Harry for years and instead gathered information behind everyone's back, I would never understand. It's probably his thing. And if Harry hates something it's having false accusations thrown at him. And there he was - some bloke he met for the first time in his life, claiming to know him based on things that were taken out of context."

"Mycroft does that," agreed John. "It's more than uncomfortable. Though at least everything he had about me was correct." He remembered how annoyed he was in the warehouse, when the older Holmes started reading facts about him and wondered if he would've reacted stronger if he suddenly started pinning things he never did on him, simply because he was misinformed. "So, how did _you_ meet Harry?" he asked, leaving the Mycroft topic behind.

"We met on the train to school at the beginning of our first year," said the wizard fondly. "Best decision ever to sit in Harry's compartment. We exchanged some stuff and stories and just like that we were friends. We were sorted into the same House that evening and later became friends with Hermione too, though that took a lot more time. She annoyed us at first – well, mostly me. Seemed terribly bookish and just your typical goody-two-shoes, so it took some time and very unusual circumstances..."

"Hey, aren't you married to her?" wondered John aloud. "Wait, what unusual circumstances?"

"Well, we faced a troll on Halloween," admitted the redhead. "A possessed professor let him in. And I was a prick to Hermione earlier that day, so she didn't know about him. We went to find her..." He paused for a moment as if contemplating something. "Muggles know about them, don't they? Stupid ugly brutes with clubs? Likely to bash anything that moves?"

"I guess we do," said John faintly, imagining three children facing something like that. And a possessed professor?! This wasn't mentioned in the book he read – he truly needed to find out what else was left out.

"Yeah, Harry jumped at him and I somehow levitated his own club and dropped it at his head. We were all okay at the end, though the bathroom where it all happened was in pieces. Then the teachers came... and Hermione lied for us. Took the whole blame, even if it was ours... _my_ fault she was there in the first place. There was absolutely no need for her to do that, but she did anyway," elaborated the man. "So, it took a troll to figure out what an amazing friend Hermione is. Too bad there wasn't another troll handy that would make me realise she is not only a great friend, but a girl a lot sooner," he concluded smiling slightly.

The doctor wanted to ask more, but the detective was back, announcing his presence huffily because they failed to notice him. John thought that they had a reason, as he was too busy processing the existence of trolls – who apparently roamed wizarding schools freely and the wizard was daydreaming about days long past.

"I know exactly where to look now!" exclaimed Sherlock triumphantly. Ms Miles was suspiciously absent. "But we must hurry, Agatha thinks we no longer want to contact Dorking about the house, so we shouldn't be here. And she will surely be back soon after you cancel your enchantments. What is it by the way? Some sort of compulsion that prompts you to insist on doing some forgotten chore?" he asked the Auror not even waiting for reply. "I was mistaken; Milverton was just as stupid as everyone..."

"And where did you lose your girlfriend?" asked John mockingly.

"Huh?" Sherlock stared at him. "Oh – she went home, I believe. Or maybe to help a friend, I didn't pay attention. She prattled and prattled," confessed the detective almost desperately. "You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get the important things out of all that. And you're a terrible actor, John, she almost didn't buy the story about us looking for a new place to live."

"I am _so_ terribly sorry. Maybe you could give me a warning next time," replied John dryly rolling his eyes. "And in case you were wondering, behaving like that is considered not good at all. But I am sure you have some _brilliant_ reason for doing that."

"Of course I do. Weren't you listening? Milverton must have had a lot of hiding places in case of a burglary – a safe is obvious, but having everything at one place is risky, especially for a man who needs to have backup plans in case things go awry – so more than one hiding place. Such a nosy woman as that housekeeper wouldn't rest until she was aware of them, even if she would never act upon her discoveries. She also likes to gossip – you might have noticed bits of it – but I've taken the full brunt. No wonder she is still single, though the fact that she also clings to an overly romanticized image of her future partner might have helped that."

"Did she slap you?" asked John casually.

Sherlock was quite surprised by the unexpected question. "No?"

"Shame," retorted the doctor promptly.

"Oh, you're still worried about her," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, stop that. I think she cooed what a charming couple we are somewhere between how Dorking wouldn't give her pay-rise and Milverton's _terrible_ smoking habit - apparently his study smells like a tobacco company. Delightful, isn't it? Anyway, thinking I wanted to make you jealous for some reason wasn't exactly what I was going for, but as long as she was willing to talk about Milverton... In any case, you don't need to worry about her broken heart."

"I was not..." started John, but gave up - it was just a waste of energy. Thankfully there was a bright side to this - Sherlock's absence gave him the chance to talk to Ron Weasley for a few minutes, and he couldn't help but like him better now - and who knew, maybe Sherlock will be dashing madly around the house and give him time to inquire about the troll incident a bit more...

"Not to interrupt or anything," said the wizard suddenly, checking his watch once again. "But can we _finally_ go into the house? I know you're not in a hurry, but some of us don't have the entire day."

"I don't know what are you waiting for then," replied Sherlock easily. "I expected _you_ to have something that will open the door - because if you don't, you should have mentioned that before and we would have stopped at Baker Street to get my burgling kit. But of course you wouldn't think so far."

* * *

**Okay... so I admit this probably isn't terribly canon behaviour for BBC Sherlock, but I always find Holmes' engaged to Milverton's housemaid in Doyle's original story terribly amusing, so I wanted to keep it... sort of... she went to show him around instead of becoming his fiancee though... Sorry again if it sounds weird.  
And John and Ron are bonding over stories, yay :)  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you all for reading, and of course for the follows, favs and reviews :)**

**(Sarah) Thank you! :) I am glad you liked it. **

**(HarnGin) It wasn't really deliberate, but they will talk some more in this chapter - hopefully John will get his fact straight this time :) Thank you, I am happy you think so :D**

**(zeynel) Thanks! **

**(imkerfuffled) Aww, I am so glad :) And I know... such scene would be fantastic. **

**(Fluffy-luvr) Thanks. **

**(KG86) :) I am sure John is on his way to figure some things out. **

**(Sailor Celaeno) I am really happy to hear that :) Yep, I know, but somehow I didn't think that would deter Sherlock - I foresee pufferfish eyes and stuff stored alongside severed thumbs as soon as he gets his hands on those - poor poor John... Yeah, I thought John might relate and he would be more careful than Sherlock... I think I have no idea how the meeting will go, for they can either get along well, or clash spectacularly, and though I already know when and how they are going to meet, how it will go is still not really clear... Oh, I think there is no doubt that Mycroft would be the ideal Slytherin if he went to Hogwarts, I think he is perfect for that house. Which is also a reason why I think Sherlock would be in Ravenclaw despite having the potential for both houses - he would argue with the hat not to be put in the same house as his brother (despite him not being in the school at the same time). John though is Hufflepuff/Gryffindor hatstall for me and where would I put him usually depends on my mood, not on any actual change in John. Oops... I got a bit carried away, but this would really make a great debate :) **

**(lulu) Thanks :) I am glad you liked both chapters. Actually I was thinking about sort of a prequel story about Mycroft and Harry (and other wizarding folks) and all the times they met during those 6 years they knew each other, starting with the first meeting, ending with Mycroft asking Harry to meet his brother right before the start of OWaD, and some chapter in between, of course. Though I wanted to ask near the end of this story, as I wouldn't really start with it before I am finished with this. But still, the question remains - is it a good idea? And this is actually a question for everyone...****. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 18**

"And since when do you have a burgling kit?!" asked John. Not only he intervened so the wizard would have a few seconds to calm down – after all, it _was _Sherlock's fault that they were delayed and yet he still managed to make it sound as if he blamed the ginger – _but_ he was also genuinely interested in the answer.

"Oh, I had it for some time," replied Sherlock smiling slightly, "but I didn't get the chance to use it yet. And I made sure it's up-to-date. All the ordinary burglars would be envious of such a first-class..."

"Okay!" interrupted the Auror. Gushing about a break-in now?! What will be next... Seriously, he was starting to develop a headache from this man - and he thought Mycroft Holmes was difficult. "No need for that. I will open the door!" He took out his wand and wordlessly tapped the lock. There was a click and just like that they were able to enter.

Sherlock peered at the door curiously. "Hmm," he inspected them carefully. The spell must have worked as a key. It wasn't a forced entry as there were no signs of abuse. "Is there a lot of magical burglars?" he asked.

John got a similar idea upon seeing how easy it was to enter a Muggle household. Their house really stood no chance. Hell, too many unwanted people entered Baker Street already, _including_ Moriarty - and he was no wizard (thank goodness for that)! What did _that_ say about their need to have a security update?!

"Not really," said Ron bewildered as they entered the house and closed the door behind them. Sherlock still lingered there, as if trying to find how exactly they got in. "Wizarding houses have wards against this. A simple Alohomora would never work."

"What about Muggles?" asked John. "Because this," he pointed at the door "is just too easy. People would take advantage of that."

"Why would they do that – you have most of your money stored on those small plastic cards nowadays. How would we even use it?" explained the wizard. "Besides it wouldn't be just burglary they would be charged with after they get caught, but a deliberate violation of the International Statute of Secrecy too. It's taken quite seriously. And _even_ if they are successful, taking large amounts of Muggle money to exchange in Gringotts would not make the Goblins terribly happy. They do not like to deal with Muggle currencies much. Lastly, most of the wizarding folks wouldn't even think about it - especially purebloods. They would scoff at the idea of Muggles having something they might want to steal."

"Great, that's terribly nice to know," said John dryly as he finally looked around. The short hall they entered looked nice enough, decorated with modern paintings and plants in the corners, though if it was Milverton's idea or if he rented the house furnished, he had no idea. Sherlock led them straight to the drawing room.

"Honestly," shrugged the wizard, "it should be. It's the best explanation I can offer. And isn't it better that you're overlooked - considering moments ago you were afraid wizards would take advantage of Muggles?"

"Can you two be quiet?" asked Sherlock. Though he was the one who asked the first question, he didn't understand why they took it as an excuse to start a conversation. It was making him irritated. "I know it may be a novel concept for _some_, but I am trying to think here." His eyes were darting around taking everything the house offered about Milverton. The drawing room looked exactly as the woman described and he managed to locate the door to Milverton's bedroom without any problem - they were the closest ones to the hall.

"Why?" replied John. He had just enough of Sherlock's mood swings and it wasn't even noon yet. "I thought that all you need to do now is to follow Agatha's instructions and it will be a breeze."

"Hilarious," said Sherlock, deadpan. "I'm going to Milverton's study. And I need silence. So either be helpful and shut up or take your mundane chatter somewhere else."

"Fine," said John. "So what should _we_ do?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Well the house has quite a few rooms. The drawing room, the master bedroom which is here," he opened the door next to him then continued. "The study is accessible only through the bedroom. That way," he waved towards one of the walls," are the guest rooms. That part of the house only collects dust according to Agatha. Unsurprising - who would visit Milverton _and_ stay? And the last door you see leads to the dining room. Kitchen is that way too. Milverton employed his own chef for the times he didn't eat out. Then there is the garden. You can get there through the unused guest rooms, as well as through his bedroom. There is a greenhouse with exotic plants - one of the few places in this house Milverton visited regularly. Though unimportant for our purposes. Others are of course his bedroom, the study and this room."

"So we should search all three of them?" asked John.

"Indeed," said Sherlock, internally sighing at the obviousness of that statement. "You can search the drawing room, even magically if needed," he added looking at the Auror, "but there is a computer and the safe in the study, so no magic there. I gathered that poking the computer with a wand and expecting any results would be quite disastrous - sadly I think that would be about the only thing you would be able to do with it."

"Look," glared the Auror, "I know I am not the best around the Muggle stuff, but I wouldn't bloody poke the computer, _okay_?! So you go to the study and do whatever you think is necessary. But that is all. I will check here and in the bedroom. You can join in if you finish sooner than me though. I am not stopping you. Is there anything specific I should be looking for?"

"Why can't I have a look at the bedroom?" argued the detective. "I am going through there! It would make sense for me to stop for a few minutes."

"But wouldn't it be better if we look through those two rooms, while you concentrate on the study?" asked him John. "I mean, he is right, it may take some time to get into Milverton's computer and we will have this searched fairly quickly between the two of us."

"What do you mean 'we'?" asked the Detective frowning. "You're going with me!"

"But I think I would rather help with those two rooms," admitted the doctor. "You said you want silence anyway."

"Yes," said Sherlock slowly, not really sure why were they even discussing this. "And you wouldn't be able to chit-chat when the Auror is in a completely different room. Problem solved."

"Yeah, it is," nodded John, determined not to let Sherlock walk all over him. And goddammit if he wanted to talk to someone, he would! "I will take my mundane chatter elsewhere and you will have your silence - that was the other option, wasn't it?"

"Fine," said the detective again, the frown still on his face. "Look for a black notebook. Agatha said she saw him with it occasionally. Also any documents he may have forgotten here." Then he closed the door with more force than was needed.

"You don't mind, do you?" inquired John after he was left alone with the redhead. "After all, I sort of invited myself here."

"Why would I?" asked the wizard surprised, after all, he had no quarrel with the doctor. "Though, you sure he doesn't need your help? He looked like he wanted you there."

"He will live," replied John carelessly. The truth was he wouldn't be able to help much anyway... what would he do? Offer him guesses on Milverton's password? He had exactly... zero of those. And even if he did think of something, it would probably be miles away from the real thing and Sherlock really didn't appreciate wild guessing anyway. He could manage it faster and better without his presence. That and he really wanted to continue the conversation he'd had with the Auror outside.

"Okay, well, as you said, at least we will cover it faster," said the ginger.

"Are you supposed to be elsewhere?" asked John noticing that the man glanced at his watch once again. And come to think about it, he was trying to hurry things along a lot.

"Not really," said the wizard, which earned him a flat look. "Okay... not _yet_. But I promised George – that's my brother, that I would go to his shop today. I used to help him a lot. Now it's usually only during Saturdays, but sometimes I need to step by for one reason or another even during the week. He asked if I could spare Friday afternoon for him and I promised before this all happened. But there is still plenty of time."

"Oh," nodded John. That made sense. He was afraid for a while that he was bothered by their presence too much and wanted to get rid of them quickly so he can examine everything by himself – which was ridiculous after what he said earlier and after he allowed Sherlock free reign in the study. "What shop does he have?" he asked.

"A joke shop," smiled Ron, though John thought there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. However he was not really sure. "Well, we should start looking," said the wizard glancing around the drawing room. It had modern and stylish furniture and one of the walls was adorned by a giant screen. "Doubt anything will be here. Otherwise Holmes would have never left this room. The notebook might be in the bedroom though."

The doctor just shrugged, secretly agreeing, but not admitting anything.

The Auror opened the door to the bedroom and took out his wand. He must have done something, because the bedside table started moving towards them. "Okay," the Auror quickly ended whatever spell it was.

"What exactly did you do?" asked John.

"Just tried to summon the notebook. It must be locked in the drawer," replied the man as he stalked towards it. He tapped the bedside table the same way he did the front door and took the notebook out.

"That was quick," commented John, thinking how easy everything was for wizards.

"Yeah," said Weasley, looking at the pages. "But we need to search for everything else manually. I was able to summon this because Holmes told me about it. I don't know what else we shall find or be looking for, so I might be too vague if I tried it now. I mean 'documents' can mean plenty of things - everything under that category would fly towards us."

"Okay, we better not do that," agreed John. It was possible there were a lot of papers in this house. "So what's in the notebook?"

"Hmm," the wizard closed it and put it on the table in the drawing room after they returned there. "Some names, addresses... a lot of them blackened, so I managed to read them only partially, if at all. It's as if he didn't need them anymore. But one of the last notes concerns a woman - Eva Blackwell. He had a meeting scheduled with her yesterday - not the first time they were going to meet."

"Well, it's a good sign we found this," said John.

"I don't know," shrugged the wizard. "She might have nothing to do with this. But it's something. We're not done yet, though. Shall we start with the drawing room?" he asked.

"Okay," agreed the doctor and they started going through the room with care. After a few moments of silent search, John blurted out, "You know how you told me about the troll?" The wizard hummed in affirmation, pausing momentarily. "Did something like that happen often?"

"With trolls?" asked the Auror distractedly. "Nah, it was just once, though we had security trolls for a brief time in third year."

"So trolls are_ not_ common?" asked John.

"Oh, they are. They prefer old bridges, mountains or forests though."

"So how did one end up in the school?" asked John exasperated. "I mean even if someone let him in, he would need to take him from some forest... or mountain, or whatever."

"But there is the Forbidden Forest next to the school. It has all sorts of creatures and beings, and while I didn't see any trolls in there, I have no doubts they might be there," said the wizard as if that explained everything.

"You have a forest... that is called _Forbidden_ right next to the school... full of children?!" repeated John, just to be sure he heard right. "Just what kind of school is that?"

"What did you imagine our school is like?" asked the Auror as he levitated the rug to check underneath just to be thorough. "It's a magical castle in Scotland. Of course there will be a forest and a lake too." He said it as if he couldn't even imagine there might be a school without a creepy forest nearby, or that it would be anything else but...

"_A castle?_ Hogwarts is a castle?" asked John.

"Yeah," nodded the wizard. "Harry must have mentioned it since you know the name..."

"He never clarified. Sherlock quickly steered him away from that topic," admitted John. "Not his best moment."

"He has _good_ moments?" asked Ron with raised eyebrows. John shot him a look, so he raised his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, sorry. It was a joke... mostly... partially... okay it wasn't."

"He really isn't that bad," defended John, knowing well that he wasn't behaving his best either. "And thank you again for not kicking him out. I know you should have stopped him at least a dozen times by now."

"Well... I told you my reasons. And as my knowledge about technology really _is_ sort of limited, I thought I would give him this one," replied the Auror. "It's not like me trying to' poke stuff with wand' would do any good as he pointed out."

"Ah," sighed John. "He meant well, the wording was a bit unfortunate though... but it would be bad if the computer got destroyed. So about the troll..." he trailed off awkwardly, before the wizard decided he really was mad at the detective.

"Is it really such an interesting topic?" asked Ron in honest curiosity.

"Trust me, it is," replied John. "Children roaming a magical school getting into a lot of trouble, battling trolls, sounds like a material for a fantasy novel. And you have me hooked. Though the safety issue is worrying."

The wizard just laughed, he always liked to tell stories, so who was he to stop someone who asked for it. "Okay... so what do you want to know?"

There was no need to ask John twice. "So how tall was the troll? And how exactly did you manage to do something against it? And _where_ were the teachers?"

And thus started the cross-examination that moved (relatively) quickly from the troll to other topics, such as what does Hogwarts look like (It has a ceiling that shows current weather?... Moving stairs?!... Portraits can _talk_?... A _what_ room? - that's impossible!...) to all the teachers (Head of the House? A cat?! A real CAT?!... Whoa, he sounds great, a half-GIANT you say?... Ghost is a teacher? How did he even grade your papers?... Sounds a bit like Anderson. Really! A forensic scientist, not important. So did the man have Muggle relatives? No, I am being serious!...).

They ended up on the chairs with John listening to every word and Ron gesticulating wildly describing the funny stories from their lessons and free time (from John's reactions to the troll he didn't dare to mention other threatening stuff that happened to them - in their first year. He was not even thinking about the later years).

It was not like they forgot about the search. They finished with both room shortly after they get through the Hogwarts description. It proved to be futile - they didn't find anything else after the notebook. After the Auror asked if they should tell the detective, John assured him that Sherlock would need more time and he would surely let them know when he was done. Until then it made no sense to disturb him, so this was simply a way to kill the time...

* * *

Sherlock was not very happy about John leaving. His friend was known to be useful... he helped him on many occasions. His ideas may not always be the greatest, but he liked to hear them anyway, to have a second opinion. And he would be lying if he said that he didn't get used to the honest amazement John displayed every time he did something that moved the cases along, or solved them altogether. Granted, he just pointed out the obvious, but from John's point of view it probably wasn't and he let Sherlock know that - unlike many other people who would rather stitch his mouth together.

But now John decided that he wouldn't accompany him and Sherlock simply couldn't understand why. He was not angry - maybe slightly frustrated, but not angry to the point of avoiding his company. He was familiar with that state and knew he needed to give John his space then. But this was not it. So why did he decide to stay behind? This was bothersome...

Well, maybe hacking (it was laughable to use that term in this conditions, there was no challenge in this) a computer wasn't terribly interesting, but looking at rooms that held (almost) no evidence whatsoever was even worse - because even though he said Milverton spent time there and they should be checked (both true statements, so John cannot accuse him of lying), he didn't believe the man was so stupid as to leave something important in rooms where someone like Agatha Miles could have entered freely. Though, during his time in this room he lowered his opinion about Milverton's intelligence significantly. Well, what else was he supposed to think about a man in such a risky business, whose passwords were his initials followed by his year of birth - he used it on every bloody thing... well, not on his safe, where he left out the middle initial. Idiot.

He already looked through everything - there was nothing of use in the computer, which was surprising. At least until he opened the safe where he found a flash drive lying on a pile of documents. Though he was still left disappointed after he went through it. Oh, it did contain a list of Milverton's victims and information about them - but only the past ones. Maybe it was good John didn't see this. He would be terribly indignant about it. Though Sherlock did mention what Milverton did and to what extremes, it was one thing to vaguely know about it and seeing it detailed with meticulous care. It was obvious he truly enjoyed this and it was not all just for the money.

If the flash drive had only a list of people he no longer needed, then he was sure they definitely needed the notebook he mentioned to John and Weasley. Agatha said he guarded it carefully. So where else would his current victims be listed? It was also the only thing he knew Weasley might be able to find. He actually hoped it would be found. Though there was still a chance it might have been stolen by the murderer or Milverton could have had it on his person when he was taken to the morgue (he would need to keep it in his pyjamas then, so that was unlikely). If they didn't find it, they would be missing a vital lead, just because Milverton used an idiotic system to store his things.

As he went through the papers that were in the safe with the flash drive, he regretted not stopping in the bedroom to search for the notebook before others, but John might have not appreciated that. It appeared the papers in the safe were the blackmailing material - it was a bit old-fashioned to keep it in printed form, but it was better for his sanity not to think about how Milverton kept his things.

He looked around the room one last time. There was nothing else he could find here. He took the flash drive and the papers, closing everything so it seemed like no one was here and went to fetch John. It didn't even take that long, he thought. The thing that stalled him the most was checking the (quite long) list on the flash drive. But there was no mention of anything that could be regarded as magical. Which didn't mean some of those people weren't wizards or witches or didn't have such relatives and friends wishing to avenge them. He remembered that the Aurors had the neighbours checked, so there would be no problem finding out if any of those people fit.

He entered the drawing room and wanted to inform the two of his findings, but stopped short upon seeing John laughing so hard he could barely breath and Weasley doing some weird deep-voiced impression.

"... as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"No way a teacher said this to a bunch of first years!" cried John. Ron's impression was killing him.

"Not really," admitted the Auror. "I really remember only that dunderhead part. You can disregard the beginning, but he said something similar... maybe. Hey, it was scary - for an eleven year old. Especially the way he stared at you. Like you dare to move in a way he didn't like and he would make a potion ingredient out of you! And he totally had it out for Harry."

"No!" said John. "Harry must have hated that!"

"Oh, yes! Yes he did," replied Ron. "Didn't get _why_ the whole time! Then he did and did everything he could so the man is not remembered only as a hated bastard after his death."

"What?!" asked John. That was something he didn't expect.

"Having fun?" asked Sherlock coldly.

Both men turned towards him.

"Oh, are you done already?" asked John with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Ron was just telling me about Hogwarts. Their school is madly brilliant. Would you believe they have portraits that talk? And a room that can change into _anything_! And it's a castle! How amazing is that?"

"Fantastic," said Sherlock flatly. "Well, while you were having fun. I found out a list of people Milverton blackmailed." He threw the flash drive at Ron who barely caught it. "Have them checked if they had any relation to the wizarding world - give it to Mycroft or something, just don't destroy it... There is however one person missing, since he 'catalogued' them only after he no longer found them useful. We need the notebook to identify her. Did you even manage to look through the rooms or did you just waste the time?"

"We got the notebook," stated John, pointing at the table. "Milverton was supposed to have a meeting with someone called Eva Blackwell yesterday."

Sherlock's bad mood was lifted. "Brilliant! Was there an address?" He snatched the notebook and looked it up himself. "Well, it looks like we will need a cab," he exclaimed.


	19. Chapter 19

******I need to apologize for the longer wait, I ran out of chapters. I need to thank you all for being such fantastic and patient readers. However I am afraid the updates won't be in such a rapid pace as before, though the wait won't be as long as this time. **

**I am also very proud to announce that from now on I have a Beta reader, the fantastic Zarathustra46, she also helped to correct all the previous chapters. Thank you so much! I might have mentioned it before, but it is such a great news, that it's worthy mentioning it again :)**

**(dana-san) Thank you. I played with Sherlock's part for some time, I am glad to hear it didn't sound totally weird. And I am sure Sherlock knows John has other interests, it was just combination of John choosing the more boring part (which he deliberately delegated to Ron, ****_but_**** he also had a point with not letting him near the computer) and thus preferring Ron's company (the horror! the horror!) - and at the end it even looked like they were just lazying around (all Ron's fault of course)... thankfully they were not, they were just that quick :) And that's exactly what I was thinking about the prequel! Thanks for your reply. **

**(Sailor Celeano) Of course Sherlock would choose the outlandish ingredients - the weirder the better :) Too bad he really cannot brew anything... Yeah, you're right about Hermione - and you bet she will be informed about his personality before meeting him, because Ron will grumble at home (if he cannot while working... much, then where else would he?)... And I really like your reasoning about the Houses too :) **

**(ilyena damodred) Thank you :)**

**(A Reader) :) I am glad you do. Of course we cannot have that :D He should dislike Ron and his incompetence just like he does! Why doesn't John see he is useless? ...Besides Sherlock wants to hear about magical stuff and Harry's past too, though probably not from Ron. But still - how dare they exclude him! **

**(kateydidnt) Thank you so much! :D You're very welcome. And regarding your idea - if he encounters her it will be done... and he shall, because it's a great opportunity to tell her off. Besides, Lestrade needs to be back sooner or later, it would be easy to make it so Sally (and possibly Anderson) can be present. Honestly, I think Sherlock is not blameless (because, seriously, when he is?) in their animosity, but of course you're right, calling someone freak at every opportunity is not really professional and quite malicious - Harry certainly would not appreciate it. **

**(Sarah) Thank you! That's great to hear. **

**(Guest) I know... poor Ron. Sherlock probably thinks of him as the magical equivalent of Anderson... Oh my, what have _I_ done? *hides in shame* And I _like_ Ron... sigh**

** (lulu) Thanks :) I though the snippets would do just fine - we know exactly what Ron talked about (I hope) even without having the whole conversation written down - especially since it was nothing groundbreaking (well, for us - John would beg to differ). To answer your question, yes, George, Angelina, Ginny and Hermione are planned in the foreseeable future (bear in mind that 'foreseeable future' may mean quite a few chapters, but actually about a day or two in the timeline) Hope this is a good answer :) Thank you for the response regarding the prequel, I think I really will... as soon as this is wrapped up.**

**(AnElegantCatastrophe) Thanks! I shall :)**

**(contest4jen) I'm glad. Harry will definitely appear again, don't worry. (And nope, I am not talking about his brief cameo right now)**

**(biblioholic) Done! I am glad you kept with the story despite the faults. Hope from now on everything will be okay :) I'm just sorry, I didn't do this sooner. **

**(KG86) Yeah, poor him :D Ron and John will definitely have more moments.**

**(jgood27) Thank you!**

**(Aria) I am glad :) Thank you!**

**(0Harry. J. Potter0) Thanks so much :) This story will definitely be finished, no need to worry. **

**(BlueMoonMaples) Thanks for the reviews. That would be a correct assumption :) He did. I just decided to give him his old job back, I didn't found anywhere that the office he got during the war still existed afterwards. It really sounded like something that was created and needed during the war but not that much after it ended. But I gave him bigger room (with windows too!) and more staff than just Perkins (who probably retired by this time anyway). So technically I didn't take away the promotion. Kingsely wouldn't do that. And Arthur would be happier with his Muggle Thingy office. Not that this all was shown to a great detail in the chapter :(**

**(Suffermysolipsism) Thanks!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

He took out his phone, turned it on and was about to start texting when Ron was once again forced to take a deep breath as he started searching his pockets, only to take out a mirror and stare at it intently, which distracted the detective.

John looked at him curiously too. He didn't have time to ask why he had it, because a familiar voice suddenly filled the room.

"Hey, how is it going? I cannot talk to you for long; I excused myself from a meeting. By the way, Mycroft was asking about Sherlock. Said his signal disappeared, tell him to turn his phone back on, he might have forgotten as he left the Ministry, okay?" said Harry sounding a bit rushed.

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Sherlock beat him to it. He put the phone away the moment he heard the first words spoken by the Head-Auror and now was hovering too close for the redhead's liking. John wanted to see too, but even Sherlock needed to stretch a bit to see from behind the wizard's shoulder. And it was not like he couldn't hear anyway. The voice was crystal clear, as if Harry was in the room with them.

"No need to repeat that, I heard," said the detective looking into the mirror. "I hope you told him to mind his own business!"

"Not exactly," replied Harry. "He thought you're still at the Ministry and wondered what's taking you so long, so I told him you left to investigate already. He didn't ask for Milverton's address though."

"He doesn't need to do that," commented Sherlock as the irritated ginger stepped away from him. It caused him to lose sight of the dark-haired wizard, so he closed the distance again.

"Oh, I know," chuckled Harry. "I just want you to remember he got it by himself, so you cannot blame this on me. So did you find anything?"

Sherlock and John looked at each other. "He wouldn't...," sighed the doctor, while Sherlock only raised his eyebrows, silently questioning why would John doubt Mycroft's stalking tendencies.

Ron just frowned and started narrating the adventure with the housekeeper, once again getting away from the detective while he was distracted.

Meanwhile, John went through the hall towards the front door and opened them. No surprise awaited him... just one black car. He closed the door and shouted back at his companions. "He is here! Sherlock, if you already sent that text, I think you can cancel the cab."

"Of course he is," muttered Sherlock, not happy at all.

"... so Holmes got some computer thing –"

"_Flash drive_," corrected the man promptly as he started concentrating on the wizard again. He immediately stepped back into the mirror's view.

"Yeah, that – it contains a list of people Milverton blackmailed. There is also Eva Blackwell. He was supposed to meet her yesterday. And there were other meetings before that. We're going to see her now to find out what part she plays in this. Any chance you can get away from the meeting and join us?" finished Ron, giving up on getting rid of his new shadow.

"Afraid not," sighed Harry. "The Minister is here and few of the Heads too..." Suddenly they heard commotion on the other side and all they heard was unintelligible murmur, as Harry quickly pocketed the mirror and after a moment or two he reappeared. "Okay, I should be going. Tell Mycroft to hurry, okay? He is expected here. Don't keep him for too long," And with that he ended the 'call'.

Ron pocketed the mirror. "Should we be going?" he asked.

Instead of running out and taking the chance to continue with the case, Sherlock sat heavily on the chair and crossed his arms. "John, do we need to see _him_?"

"And what do you want to do? Outrun the car?" asked the doctor exasperated.

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Sherlock. "We can... apparate?" he said uncertainly, looking at Ron. He was not really pleased that he would once again need to rely on the man, but willing to use any means to escape.

"I don't think I'm going to help you there," said the wizard resolutely. "I don't need to be a seer to know that you will turn this on me. And I really don't need Mycroft Holmes to breathe down my neck just because his brother doesn't want to take a ride in his car."

John snickered. "Tough luck, Sherlock. Now let's go. We're going to say hello to Mycroft."

As they were leaving they glanced around one more time to make sure nothing was amiss. Sherlock was thinking hard about any kind of excuse all the way to the car, but wasn't very successful.

Mycroft was casually leaning against the car, watching them approach. He must have got out after John checked the road.

"Mr Weasley," he greeted pleasantly. "John, Sherlock."

"Mr Holmes," returned Ron politely.

"Hello," replied John. "Harry says you're supposed to be at their Ministry soon."

"Yes, I am aware," replied the man, dismissing the matter entirely. Then he turned to Ron. "Mr Weasley, I am afraid there is just not enough room in the back. I hope you won't mind sitting in the front seat."

"Not at all," shrugged Ron. "I'll tell the driver the address."

"Where exactly are we going?" asked Mycroft nodding his thanks.

"Chelsea," replied Sherlock. The prospect of Mycroft being tardy because he played cabbie for them cheered him considerably. "I didn't know you enjoy wasting your time so much. Aren't you regretting leaving your house to follow us now?" Unfortunately for him, his brother didn't seem to have a problem with that.

"Not particularly," replied the elder Holmes, ignoring the needling of his brother. As if he would lose his cool because of a detour.

Before the Auror got into the car, he suddenly remembered something and reached into his pocket. "I almost forgot, take this. Your brother thinks you can go through the list that's on it and find out if any of those people had any connection to the wizarding world."

Mycroft took the flash drive and they finally parted.

"Really, Sherlock?" The elder brother smirked after the three of them were seated in the back and the car moved. "You're willing to rely on me? I'm touched."

"Quit it," retorted the younger man. "It was either you or the wizards. And they are technologically inept."

"Indeed," agreed Mycroft. "You're more or less right, of course. But then you must have noticed they use different means than we do."

"So wizards don't use technology. You cannot use magic. How did you even talk to Harry before coming here?" wondered John.

"_More or less right?_ Did you start a technological crusade – with the one that is easiest for you to persuade?" Sherlock looked at his brother. "Nothing stopped you from giving Harry one of those phones! Which apparently comes with pre-installed tracking system," he grumbled, taking his phone out and waving it in front of his brother's nose.

"_Yours_ does," corrected Mycroft. "It was necessary. You were using it during your stay abroad. How else was I supposed to know where to send help when you were being stubborn? I haven't seen any reason to turn it off after you returned. It's not my fault you kept it. And no, that's not how I talked to him. While you're right and Harry is not as bad as many others in wizarding society, who refuse Muggle technology quite persistently, he still keeps only the landline. And while his wife is pleasant and his children..." he paused and scrunched his nose in obvious distaste, "_charming._ It's not really them I usually need to speak with. And I simply cannot get the man to agree to carrying a mobile phone around. It's frustrating." He paused as if he just remembered something and sighed, "Even though the phone would probably not last long if he got it anyway."

"You've met Harry's family?" asked John.

"Please," scoffed Mycroft, "of course I did. You must have noticed that Harry is basically a Weasley with different surname. And it's impossible _not _to bump into Weasleys once you enter the wizarding world – they are everywhere. _That_ is especially true if you enter it as an associate of Harry Potter. Even if we don't consider Ronald Weasley, you cannot convince me you didn't meet with a few of them already. Now you've known about the wizarding world for about two days, think how hard it would be for me _not _to meet the majority of Harry's family during _six years_..."

"Well," admitted John. "We've met Arthur Weasley. But I don't think..."

"So how _did_ you talk to him then?" interrupted Sherlock, glaring at his brother.

"For god's sake, it's no great secret, Sherlock!" replied Mycroft irritated. "I just used the Floo Network. Travelling is not the only use it has, you can contact others through it as well..."

"Oh," said Sherlock, "of course you have it installed too." He abandoned the subject now that he satisfied his curiosity. "Well, can you get one of those phones to John? Preferably without the bug. His stopped working while we were in the alley."

"Consider it done," nodded the older man.

"What?" asked John looking from one brother to another. "No! It's not necessary."

"It's annoying," said Mycroft instead of arguing, "to have your phone stop working every time you enter place with concentrated magic. And that is not all, if there is a lot of magic done around technology, it's not helpful either. I simply couldn't afford to turn off my phone for unforeseen amounts of time, nor did I remember it every time. So I had those developed, even though it took some time and creative minds to get it working. They are still not ideal though. Too long at the Ministry or in the Alley and even those are out, but it's unlikely you will spend days there. So what do you say, John, wouldn't it be better to just accept it?"

"Oh, okay," agreed John at least, after imagining a growing pile of useless phones he would acquire, as he was sure he would forget about turning them off every blasted time too. "But at least let me pay,"

"Please, John," scoffed Sherlock. "Just take it. And you were telling Mycroft how we met Arthur Weasley and another one earlier in the Ministry lift. Go on."

"Really?" asked John. "I was actually only thinking about Arthur."

"You cannot tell me you don't remember the ginger who spoke to Harry about Skeeter," wondered Sherlock.

"I do," replied John, "but being ginger doesn't make him Weasley."

"No," agreed Sherlock, "but the resemblance to the other two Weasleys we've met as well as the fact that he was present on the family photo in Harry's office does. I can't believe you didn't make the connection. I know for sure you were inspecting the photographs closely."

"It's not like we spent a long time with the man. And the people on those photos were moving!" cried John defending himself. "It distracted me!"

"That would be Percival," revealed Mycroft smiling slightly at John's reaction. "However I am more interested in the fact that you met Rita Skeeter. What did you do Sherlock?" he inquired preparing for the worst.

"Why do you think I did anything?" asked his younger brother defensively.

Mycroft just stared at him, while John rolled his eyes. "He dressed her down pretty badly," he replied instead of the detective. "Strangely it was one of those instances where someone deserved the encounter with Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock gave his friend an annoyed look.

"Well, I don't doubt that," said Mycroft slowly. "But you probably need to accept the fact that there will be an unflattering article about you in the Daily Prophet sometime soon."

"Why?" asked John worriedly. "Harry hinted something, but can't he stop it? He is pretty high up."

"Not really... or rather he wouldn't really consider it," replied the man. "He fought rather hard so the Ministry wouldn't be able to control what is going to be published. It was actually one of the first things he insisted upon. Not surprising at all considering their past. But imagine that now _he _would be the one trying to stop public from knowing something like this – it will be fairly minor and manageable if they publish this article in comparison to the scandal Skeeter would create if Harry Potter started dictating what should and should not be published. So no, he wouldn't do it, even if it may prevent people from finding out the wrong way."

"But people know about us," said John bewildered. "When we entered the Leaky Cauldron Harry casually mentioned to Hannah that we should be allowed in. Why should this be such a big deal?"

"No, John," Mycroft shook his head. "I presume you're speaking about Hannah Longbottom, aren't you? _She_ knows about you, because the Longbottoms are close friends of Harry. And he refuses to hide things from his friends. Another one of his quirks I don't fully agree with, even if I know where it came from. But the Wizengamot decided to keep it quiet, not particularly secret, but it surprisingly stayed out of focus and they did nothing to draw attention to it. But now Skeeter can influence the public opinion before the Ministry has the time to present it in positive light."

"Well," sighed John defeated, "we will deal with it when it comes."

Sherlock nodded in agreement. This at least explained why the security man at the Ministry was clueless. But another thought occurred to him. "Does this mean the meeting you have is about the Exemption?" he asked. It would make sense, if it was such a big deal and public could retaliate, then undoubtedly the Ministry can take action before people panicked. Who knows, who exactly heard about the incident in the pub. "Do they want to stop it? Now, that it barely started?"

Mycroft actually laughed at this. "It's nice to know that you are actually afraid you might lose this chance. I suspected you might find the whole wizarding world fascinating, but I didn't know you would be so taken."

"I am not!" argued Sherlock. "It would just be a terrible waste of my time if I found myself suddenly cut off after being invested during these two days."

Mycroft just hummed sceptically, but didn't contradict his brother. He didn't need to, he knew him well. "Well, rest assured, that the Ministry will not stop it, unless it proves to be an utter failure. But you're probably right; this can be one of the topics discussed at the meeting. I suppose that's why I am needed."

"Really?" asked John.

"Yes," replied the elder Holmes simply, "though Harry wasn't entirely clear when I called him, so I might be mistaken."

"Because you were too busy interrogating him about our whereabouts," snarked Sherlock.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes. "May I ask why are we going to Chelsea?" he asked to change the topic.

"To visit Eva Blackwell," replied Sherlock. "Currently the only person Milverton had as an 'ongoing project'."

"Ah... just don't drive her to tears, Sherlock," said Mycroft as the car suddenly stopped. He didn't have time for more. "I'll have a look at your list after the meeting. You'll hear from me if I find something."

Sherlock just nodded as he and his friend got out of the car, where there were joined by the redheaded wizard.


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you for all the follows, favs and supportive reviews, I appreciate them very much. **

**(lulu) Thank you. That's great to hear, I hope it will be worth waiting for. And there definitely will be scenes where all four are together in this story, don't worry :)**

**(Sailor Celaeno) Thank you. I sent you PM, I would be glad to talk about those topics anytime :)**

**(DumDumDum) That's your opinion which I can understand, what I cannot however is the rude manner you used to convey your point.**

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**(Sarah) Thanks :D**

**(wolfawaken) I am glad too :) Hope you will like the new chapters too. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 20**

"Well," started Ron as the black car disappeared in traffic, "do we have any idea who Eva Blackwell is?"

"A rather ordinary woman who got herself a very wealthy fiancé, but who has a dark spot on her otherwise pristine reputation that made it very easy for Milverton to threaten her," replied Sherlock.

"Come on," said John, "don't tell me you deduced that from looking at the house."

Sherlock just waved the file he brought over from Milverton's house at John. "I read this. And you can hardly figure that from the outside of a house. Though I doubt I will need to employ any observing of my own later on – the documents were very detailed. And I have no reason to suspect Milverton would store lies – they would be of no use for him."

"Okay, so who is the fiancé?" asked John

"Dr Earl D. Court," replied Sherlock. "I think you've heard of him, John."

John just gaped at the detective. "Heard of him?! Of course I heard of him! Not even a week ago I read the new article he wrote for BJS. Terribly bold ideas, but I must admit..."

"Umm... who is he?" asked the wizard hesitantly, bringing John back to earth.

Sherlock just glanced his way. "And of course _you_ wouldn't have a clue," he commented, but refrained from saying more, because John gave him a stern look and started to explain it himself.

"His family is pretty well off." He pointed towards the handsome villa that was behind him. "But that's not all he has to his name. He is a very renowned surgeon. Very talented – considered one of the best in his field. Had a few cases that were considered lost causes by other doctors and he pulled it off. But I didn't know he is engaged."

"Oh, I see," said Ron.

"No, you don't," commented Sherlock, daring the redhead to prove him wrong. "You have no idea what it is that surgeons do."

"They are doctors," replied the wizard rather sulkily, but that was all he added to the subject, not wanting to say something that might not be entirely correct.

John just rolled his eyes at Sherlock and decided to move on. "We should check if she is home."

"She is," said the detective with conviction.

"How can you be so sure?" asked the doctor.

"Because she was looking from behind the curtain and noticed us," replied Sherlock. Until now he was the only one facing the house and his companions turned from him to confirm his words. "She is no longer there, though I do not doubt she is waiting by the door. She saw John pointing towards the house, undoubtedly she understands we'll be going in."

"Who is she waiting for?" asked the Auror.

"Isn't it rather obvious?" asked the detective. "She is anxious that Milverton will show up."

"Really?" Ron's voice was coloured with disbelief. "That is a rather big assumption."

"It certainly is no assumption," replied Sherlock. John recognised the voice he used – the detective was sure he was right, and the implication that he was just guessing didn't sit well with him.

"Why would she be waiting for him?" questioned the doctor.

"Simply because she has no idea he is dead yet," said Sherlock. "How could she know? It's not like the murder has been made public, and besides Milverton was murdered by someone magical. She is not a witch, nor is she connected to your world, otherwise he would have noted something about it in her file. It is very detailed. I doubt something like that would have escaped him, as his knowledge about his victims is practically limitless."

"Still why would he show up?" asked Ron still adamant that it was simply a guess. "She could be waiting for anyone."

"Yes, let's assume she is just waiting for a friend and they are going out for lunch, why won't we?" asked Sherlock sarcastically. "People often do that as inconspicuously as possible the day after a man who blackmails them does not turn on the meeting that was arranged around this time because they could get out of the house without their fiancé or anyone else noticing. We also need to take into consideration that the man in question was known for ruining his victims. _Whyever_ would she think he simply wanted to make her life more difficult by changing his approach?"

"How easy for you to say all this, when you read all the things from those papers. Which you didn't even bother to hand over to us."

"I doubt even these would help you," replied Sherlock with ease. "Not that you particularly cared about them until now. Want to cover up your stupidity?"

Ron just mumbled something incomprehensible but otherwise ignored the detective.

"Fine, Sherlock," sighed John, "we get it. But _why_ exactly are we here? You already figured she has nothing to do with this."

"When did I say that?" asked Sherlock surprised, turning to his friend.

"Didn't you – just now?" wondered his friend.

"Not even remotely," disagreed the detective. "Now if you'll excuse me, I heard it's considered rude to keep people waiting, so we shall go and deliver the good news immediately." With those words he ran up the few stairs that led to the door and rang the bell.

The response was immediate. The door was opened by a young woman wearing rather expensive looking suit. Her appearance was spotless from the beautifully done hair to the perfect manicure. At the first glance she was the picture perfect of rich confident woman. However it was her eyes that betrayed her. They were dancing from one man to another anxiously as if she was worried that they might be in some way connected to her secret plight. She was right of course, though probably not in the way she imagined.

"Who are you?" she asked defiantly.

"Miss Blackwell?" asked John. When she nodded silently he continued, "My name is John Watson. This is Sherlock Holmes and Ronald Weasley. We've come to ask you about Charles Milverton."

She glanced at Sherlock curiously, apparently she did recognise his name, but that didn't change her suspicious attitude. "I don't know who are you talking about. Now kindly leave, I cannot help you. I am sorry." She truly looked apologetic, probably denying any knowledge out of fear.

She was about to close the door when Sherlock grabbed it, effectively stopping her.

"Do you mind?" she asked, yanking the door.

"Yes I do," replied Sherlock. "Milverton is dead. Will you talk to us now?"

"What?" she stumbled from surprise, letting the door go.

Ron just frowned at the blunt manner the detective used to deliver the news and John shook his head in resigned manner.

"Really Sherlock. It's called tact. Use it sometimes," he tsked quietly as he looked at the woman with concern. "Are you feeling well, Miss Blackwell?"

"Yes. Yes, I am fine," she replied still dazed from what she heard.

"It was the best news she could have received, I doubt she has any objections against Milverton's fate," said Sherlock as if it closed the matter. "Isn't it so, Miss Blackwell?"

"Oh no," the woman was quickly regaining her composure as she shook her head. "It's rather..." but the words failed her as she obviously wanted to agree with Sherlock that this was indeed marvellous news, but didn't think it would be very proper. "Please, come inside, we shall not discuss such matters in the doorway," she said instead, ushering them all in.

"Can I offer you something?" asked their hostess when they were all comfortably seated in the living room. "Tea? Coffee? Something small to eat?" The short walk helped to clear all the remains of her surprise. One wouldn't be able to tell that mere moments ago she was ready to collapse.

Sherlock refused everything, not even considering letting other two men to speak for themselves. Ron looked devastated but kept silent. John decided to take the conversation into his hands, knowing well Sherlock's impatience with distressed people.

"Miss Blackwell," he started, "I am not sure how much you do know about what happened, but we would appreciate your cooperation. We will try not to bother you for too long."

"No, no," she said, "you do not bother me at all. But I must admit I never expected such news would be brought to me. Mr Holmes was right. It was a relief to hear it, though it's an awful thing to say… but he was not a good person. Not at all. May I…" she hesitated, "may I know what happened to him?"

"He was murdered. In his house," replied Sherlock bluntly.

"Of that I had no doubt," she said. "As I said he was a bad person with many enemies. I was merely curious how it happened."

"That we cannot reveal, Miss Blackwell," said the redhead quickly. "I am sure you understand."

"Oh, I do," said the woman slightly disappointed. "I must say it is rather curious though."

"What is?" asked John.

"An interesting coincidence," replied Miss Blackwell thinking it over. "I know of you, Mr Holmes and Dr Watson. As a matter of fact what I heard about you almost convinced me to seek your help the day before the meeting, but I abandoned this idea at the end. And yet… here you are, though it's really not what I initially had in mind."

"What do you mean you wanted my help?" asked Sherlock.

"I was desperate," admitted the woman. "You see yesterday was the last chance Milverton offered me. He was becoming impatient."

"Was that why you had more than one meeting?" asked Ron. "Because you refused to pay him?"

"Not exactly," she clarified. "I paid him before – fractions of what he asked. But he said he wanted everything at once now and all that I already gave him doesn't count. It was supposed to happen yesterday. But I simply don't have that much money."

"But your fiancé…" started the doctor. He couldn't imagine Milverton asking for such a price that Dr Court wouldn't be able to cover.

"I would never take the money from Earl!" she said resolutely stopping John short. "Not only is it not mine, but he would ask _why_ I need so much and then I would be forced to lie as this is the only thing I do not wish him to know about me. I do not wish to cover lies with another lies. This was enough. I wanted to pay for this with the money _I_ earned in an honest way."

"But surely if you told your fiancé, Milverton would have lost a leverage and left you alone," said the Auror.

"I would have," replied Miss Blackwell, "if I only was not afraid he would hate me for it. He and his family both. At the very least he would be terribly disappointed and wouldn't look at me in the same way. I know he would. He thinks I am a good person, it's selfish, but I don't want that to change."

"So what did you want from me?" asked Sherlock, though he had a pretty good idea where this was heading.

"Help and guidance," she admitted honestly. "I was warned about going to police. Telling Earl was not possible. If anyone could have helped me, it would be you. But in the end I was afraid you would simply dismiss me. You wish only for interesting cases. You even said so on your blog. And though you didn't update it for a while, I had no reason to suspect that you changed your mind. How could I have gone to you with my pitiful plea? I would only make a fool out of myself. How could you have promised me to help conceal the evidence that I cheated people in the past? And what is so adventurous about negotiating a smaller price to pay for this mistake of mine?" she finished bitterly.

"What?" asked John and Ron simultaneously. They couldn't help it, never expecting such a turn. So Milverton was blackmailing an ex-criminal? Suddenly her decision to conceal her past from her fiancé made a lot of sense.

She looked at them surprised, "You didn't know? I assumed you are here because you came across my name after searching Milverton's things. If you found that there was no reason for me not to think you didn't find everything else."

"We did," agreed Ron, "though we were not aware of the details you just revealed." He glanced at the detective who was sporting barely noticeable smirk on his face. "I mean, _most _of us were not aware of the details," he corrected himself dryly.

"So _you _found his safe. And read everything," summed up Miss Blackwell piercing the detective with her gaze. "And forgot to tell about it to your companions."

"Naturally," said Sherlock. "Though I didn't forget to tell them, I just didn't find it necessary," he admitted which earned him a glare from both men.

She shook her head slightly amused. "Dr Watson simply doesn't do you justice on his blog."

John's lips twitched at her words, but he refused to smile fully. He would _not_ take a liking to a criminal... a very charming and beautiful one, but criminal nonetheless.

"I happen to agree with you," replied Sherlock seriously. "I always tell him that his writing is too flowery and he leaves out the science, but he never listens. Now can we discuss how Milverton acquired all that information about you? I want names and places."

The woman sighed. "There is just one who could have told him all those details. Wait here. I'll be right back," she said as she left them alone.

"Sherlock, _what_ exactly did the woman do that Milverton started to blackmail her?" hissed John some time after she left.

"She hinted at it already. Cheated a bit, lied, cajoled people to hand her money," listed his friend. "Well... tried to. She got mixed with a small group of people gathering money this way. It didn't last long, but enough to give Milverton something to work with."

"So what do you want from her?" asked the wizard.

"An address," replied the detective as they heard steps approaching the room.

"I am sorry for letting you wait," said Miss Blackwell as she entered the room. She handed Sherlock an envelope. "I wrote down the places I know _he_," she spat hatefully, "might frequent, as well as the address he used back then. Though I doubt it will be very helpful to you. He might not even be in London anymore for all I know now."

"It is enough," said Sherlock as he put the file he was holding on the table and opened the envelope glancing at it briefly. "Are you sure that he was the main source of Milverton's information?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "He even admitted it – Milverton, I mean. Bragged how easy it was to convince him to hand over the evidence he kept."

Sherlock hummed. "So in order to blackmail you, he wouldn't need to do anything else than to find him, is that right? And you are sure he didn't try anything else, but to find the man."

"Yes," confirmed Miss Blackwell. "He didn't even need to look for him. They knew each other. That is how Milverton knew I was with him in the past. Then he heard about my engagement and... well... you know the rest. It's entirely possible he knew his place from the start and didn't need to inquire about it anywhere."

The detective suddenly sprang to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Miss Blackwell, you were very helpful." He tucked the list back into the envelope. "We know the way out. Come on John, Mr Weasley."

"You're... welcome?" said the woman confusedly. She probably didn't expect the visit to end up in this manner.

"So who were you talking about?" asked John after the detective whisked them out.

"Previous beau of young Miss Blackwell. She must be still very angry at him if she refuses to even say his name. But at least she wrote it down for me. Though I already knew Milverton had dealings with him. I just needed to confirm a theory and those addresses," said Sherlock. "He was the leader of the gang, if you haven't guessed yet. He and Miss Blackwell knew each other from their hometown – childhood friends, so he easily convinced her to help him. If she was thinking straight she would have never agreed to something so stupid. She looks like a sensible woman. In any case the wake-up call followed quickly..."

Ron suddenly stopped short glaring at the envelope in Sherlock's hands. "Wait a moment," he said. "Where is the file you were waving around before?"

"Inside," retorted the detective. "I am sure Miss Blackwell will know what to do with it."

"Are you mad?! That's evidence!" Ron was really upset by this and wanted to march back inside when Sherlock's words stopped him.

"It is of no consequences for _us_," he said. "The only purpose it was supposed to serve was to break up the marriage. Miss Blackwell dramatized it a bit, but it is highly possible that it would really happen if the doctor finds about it. It's true that she was a part of the gang – for a few short weeks. She took part of only one smaller scam, which also got her caught – apparently that's really not where her talent lies. She repaid the society, got her record cleaned after the required time and started her second chance. I see no reason why to cut that chance short." Then he shrugged, looking at the wizard. "But if you still want to go back in, I am not holding you. After all you would only be ruining person's life."

"Forget it," glared the redhead. "What I really want is a break from you," he sighed tiredly as he ran a hand through his hair, looking at John apologetically. "I give up. I am sorry, but I cannot get used to working like this. And I still need to go to see my brother. I am sure I can get you someone that would be able to withstand this and can take you to visit those addresses from the office, just give me a minute..."

John panicked. This wasn't good. It seemed like his friend finally broke Ron's resolve. Thankfully the wizard was still very mindful of his behaviour and didn't just curse Sherlock to oblivion. He sent the detective a pointed look as if to say to fix it and fix it right then and there.

It was rather unnecessary as the detective had no intention to let Ron Weasley quit on him. He wanted to best him, not for him to give up entirely and delegate the case to someone even worse. Besides, neither Mycroft nor Harry would be happy about it and he had enough sense to understand that if they would disagree with his behaviour they had just enough power to make adjustments _he_ wouldn't be very happy about. It felt all very childish, but Mycroft was never above that.

"As a matter of fact," he started, "I am done running around. So if you want to visit your brother we can split here." He handed the envelope he was holding to the wizard who took it rather surprised that the man was sharing something willingly. "As you might see, some of these places are quite scattered and there is no guarantee that our search will be successful, even if we spent the next two days visiting them. I hate to waste time on pointless things, so this task might be delegated to Mycroft. If he has resources to check backgrounds of people from Milverton's flash drive, I see no reason why he wouldn't be able to check these. Our work for today is done. We cannot do anything else until he gets us the results. As he is stuck at your Ministry I don't expect them just yet."

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**I really hope this chapter is not too bad :(  
Well, they renamed Sir Henry Baskerville for the series too. so Earl of Dovercourt went to be Dr. Earl D.(avid) Court... sorry :/ I couldn't think of anything better and still close to his original title.  
As for Sherlock leaving the file behind - a bit nice for him (without a real reason to boot), I know... it's just. In the original she was his client and he burgled Milverton's house for her (among other reasons like wounded pride, but that's beside the point). I wanted him to help her here too. Sorry if it backfired on me. **


	21. Chapter 21

**(DMacX) I am glad we talked about this :)**

**(Sarah) Thanks. Well, someone needs to do that, but now that this is done, they can have more fun... not that I am saying Sherlock doesn't find interrogating people fun. But Diagon Alley is still more fun (at least for me to write)**

**(HarnGin) Thank you. And I know, it is nice - I guess he is entitled to do nice things once in a while, even though it might be a stretch for him...  
Well, Sherlock is on a case, so no food... unfortunately for the other two, it's around lunch time, though Ron might have been hungry even if it wasn't :D**

**(SeverusDmitri18) Absolutely :)**

**(Sailor Celaeno) Thanks :)**

**(swanpride) I am sure Sherlock would get it one way or another. **

**(dana-san) Thanks. I checked the chapter, though I doubt I found what you had in mind. But if there are any more jarring things, just let me know and I would make corrections. Lets say that if Sherlock doesn't learn to at least tolerate Ron, his chances that he will be well liked in wizarding world are not good. **

**(mervoparkite) I'm glad you like it :) It will get better... eventually, don't worry. **

**(merchiewnnabe) Thank you! This means a lot to me :) umm... yeah, I was told that sometimes I am too formal. Hope later chapters are less and less so. If there is anything that you find too distracting (or just plain stupid on my part), just let me know where and what it is and I will make the corrections. Teddy is in school right now, so he is not planned in this story, but Hermione will show up (I've been saying this for a long time, but trust me she really will be there). Thank yo again for your wonderful review :) **

**And special thanks for Zarathustra46 and DMacX, who helped with next chapters. I don't know what I would do without you :) **

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

"What are you going to do then?" asked the wizard, while he studied the writing intently. He hated to admit it, but the detective was right – it would be better to leave this to Mycroft.

Which would also mean the three of them could (finally!) part. He couldn't wait to get as far away as possible from this menace. He wanted to hex him quite a few times during their short acquaintanceship, but this last thing – leaving those blasted papers behind – it was literally the last drop. He'd had enough of the detective and of being regarded as an idiot. He didn't need this sort of Malfoy-ish behaviour around!

It was not that he was opposed to Sherlock's decision to help that Blackwell woman, it was the fact that the man thought he could do anything. For Merlin's sake, it was Ron's case! He was just a bloody consultant or something along those lines and yet, he got the impression he was in charge here. The wizard didn't expect much, but informing him about such decisions, should have been automatic. As if he would not agree with such a gesture! The fact that this act also showed that the detective was able to behave like a human being towards a total stranger, while he found it impossible to be civil to Ron himself, just added insult to injury. _One more time_, he swore, _one more time…_

The sooner he got away from Sherlock bloody Holmes, the better… He wondered whom he could rope into this ungrateful job if Harry would not have time to deal with Holmes by himself.

"Simple," shrugged Sherlock. "John and I are going to Diagon Alley."

"You are going to _Diagon Alley_?" Ron's head snapped towards him, hoping that somehow he just imagined what the man said.

"We are?" asked John.

"Why not?" asked the detective. "Don't tell me you don't want to go back, John. I, for one know you were terribly disappointed when we needed to leave yesterday."

"Yes," nodded John, not even bothering to deny it, "but…"

"I thought you were going to do something more… _meaningful_," interjected the Auror, glaring at the Muggle. This was certainly not what he expected. "Shouldn't you concentrate on the case? Just because you are going to delegate _some _work to your brother, doesn't mean you have nothing to do! Imagine the fiasco, when it gets out that all you want to do is frolic around in wizarding places! Why don't you try looking for information about that gang leader of yours while Mycroft looks for his location? You have contacts with Muggle police; they might know something. _This_ is why you were called in after all!"

"Excuse me? _Frolic_?!" Sherlock spat out the word. "I want to engage in potion experiments. I already made some notes and the time while I wait for Mycroft would be sufficient to start on them. It would be hard to do if I don't stop in the Alley and buy some ingredients first though. _And_," he turned to John and started reasoning with him, as soon as he noticed that Ron remained unmoved, "I still didn't think of an acceptable excuse for Molly, or Lestrade for that matter. Wouldn't it be better if we avoid them for the time being? Going to Yard would be practically inviting him to ask. And if I don't start on those experiments then I will be forced to continue with the cultures I left at Bart's, because for now there is simply nothing I can do with this case. Besides, the man is inconsequential."

"Potions?" echoed the wizard still glaring. "You can't even brew those! It might end up as a disaster! You're a Muggle, _try_ to remember that!" He paused when Sherlock's final words finally hit him. "Wait a moment… _why_ in Merlin's name do you want your brother to find him then?!"

"Exactly," nodded the dark-haired man ignoring the warning about potions. "I want Mycroft to find him_,_ personal information about him is really not that important. We're tracking _Milverton's _steps, not his, because what we need to know is what _he_ did outside of his routine, instead of catching some con-artist."

"Really?" asked John. It looked like Sherlock already formed a hypothesis about the murder and he was following it. The doctor wondered what it is, because he was still in the dark.

"Don't you see it?" sighed the detective. "We are looking for a wizard – most probably a criminal – hiding among Muggles. Which is rather clever," he mused, "considering you usually try to stay away from our world. It means you would overlook them, if they don't do anything that draws attention to them – like now."

"Aha… sure," agreed Ron flatly. "And this occurred to you… how?"

John was rather interested to know too, as he wondered what line of thoughts his friend used to figure this out.

"Because right now I operate with two premises," replied Sherlock. "First: One of Milverton's past victims had some wizarding connection and someone wanted to avenge them. However, for this to be true they would – for some reason – wait an unnecessary long time to commit the act, as we know that, except for Miss Blackwell, he didn't currently have anyone else on his list. _That_ is assuming they even know about the connexions. The victims usually do not tell or leave clues leading to Milverton. Regardless, this venue needs to be covered as well, that's why we need the backgrounds to be checked."

"What is the other one?" asked John.

"Second," continued Sherlock, "Milverton lived by his routine, _never_ changing it, except when he was hunting down information. So we know that this was disrupted, because of Miss Blackwell. Why? He needed to find her previous lover, of course, because he wanted the leverage that man could have provided. Somehow along the way, he started posing a threat to a member of your community. It might have been various reasons, from accidentally discovering said magical person, to being a thorn in some plan they might have had in that area. I don't need to tell you that wherever Milverton found Miss Blackwell's 'friend' is not exactly a good neighbourhood – that's given by his occupation. So we need to ask, what kind of wizard or witch would live in, or visit, a questionable Muggle area and take murder as an answer to encountering a nosy Muggle? There must have been other ways and yet, they decided for this route…"

Ron was staring at the detective. "There are… but they all involve the Ministry. They could have cast charms on Milverton, so he wouldn't remember. But that would alert the Ministry, as unauthorized use of spells on Muggles isn't allowed. So they would be reversed to find out who did it. It is possible to do that, unless the strongest charms are used, which only a very few can do – in that case it would be ill-advised to try to remove them for the possibility of damaging the victim's mind. Or the witch or wizard in question could have informed authorities from the start and they could have taken care of Milverton, but in that scenario, this person would need to actually come to the Ministry, because we were unaware of anything that might have happened with Milverton until he was murdered. So your theory about the murderer being someone who wants to avoid us seems plausible."

Sherlock seemed extremely happy upon hearing this. "I knew it! This is better than I initially thought! We really _are _looking for a wizarding outlaw, gentlemen!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Why is he so happy?" Ron turned to John and asked quietly, not for the first time questioning the sanity of the detective. If anything this was time to panic. He recollected the list of wanted people, and though it wasn't long, there were some people from the wizarding war that had disappeared without a trace.

"Don't mind it. He just enjoys when the criminals show a bit of competence," replied John, used to his friend's antics.

"Joy," deadpanned the wizard, still thinking just whom they might be dealing with.

The detective didn't notice, as he was in his own world, continuing his own tirade, "They took care of Milverton later, when he was at home, where it would be almost impossible for us to suspect anything. They were just hoping you wouldn't become involved, because in that case, we, as in Muggles who would come in contact with the cadaver, would be trying to figure what happened, but at the end it would be dismissed as unknown _yet _natural case of death, because we would be missing one giant detail – that it really is possible to murder someone in a manner that literally leaves no trace…"

So the case was almost finished now. All they needed now was to call Mycroft, give him the name from Blackwell, and figure out how exactly Milverton encountered someone magical. It was true that the murderer might have fled after the act, but then they wouldn't take the pain to finish Milverton in his home, instead right where they met. No, Sherlock, was fairly certain that whoever that was, thought they were secure at their location. He looked at his two companions expecting some sort of recognition, but only John seemed somewhat impressed, the Auror on the other hand was completely unfocused and it was apparent that his mind was wandering. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. So he didn't even bother to hear him out after he doubted him?!

"I know you want that break badly, admitting it yourself, but do try to pay attention while we're still on the case," he said sarcastically. "Apparate us to the Alley and you can do what you wish, we won't be keeping you company any longer."

This worked as a switch on Ron, who really wanted to part with them on (relatively) good terms, after all, he would most likely not see the detective again (John he didn't mind at all and he would make sure to help him in the wizarding world whenever that would be possible without having to deal with Holmes too), but the pompous git just needed to open his gob, didn't he. "No!" he said forcefully.

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock was evidentially taken aback.

"No I won't apparate you to the Alley!" growled Ron loudly. Then he reminded himself that they were still in front of Blackwell's house and lowered his voice, though it was still furious. "I won't apparate you anywhere! I put up with you for the whole morning. Can you even imagine how unprofessionally you're behaving?" He shook his head, "Of course you can. You're doing it on purpose! How long did you think I would last? Does it amuse you? Now let _me _behave like you do! We will find out how you like it! Who do you even think you are? You're allowed here, putting the reputation of the best people our Ministry has had in years – from Kingsley to Hermione – on stake if something, _anything_ goes wrong. So you managed to figure the clues so far! Big deal! And that is assuming you even got it right! But it still doesn't give you the right to prance around like a bloody peacock. You don't know a thing about our world, our history and yet you have the gall to call _me_ stupid? Do you think I can't turn the table and show how uninformed _you _are?! But I didn't do that! Harry didn't do that! We go out of our way to make you feel included, but bloody hell, I've had enough! I said I need a break. And I do! I'm resigning from this case! Congratulations! You won! It's not my obligation to take everything you throw at me! Just like it's not my obligation to take you to the Alley! You said you're finished with the case for today? Fine! So it's your free time now. I'm an Auror, not your wizarding transport. If you want to go there, I am sure you can manage it on your own. Like everything else, because you are just oh-so-bloody-brilliant!"

Though this outburst shouldn't have been unexpected it still left Sherlock speechless and it even took John, who saw the warning signs, a few seconds to recover. But when he did, he gladly took charge, preventing Sherlock from making this bad situation even worse.

"Sorry for all the trouble today," he started, not really sure what to say, to make the morning look less terrible. "Well, I for one, am grateful you were sent on this case with us. And I really appreciated what you told me about Hogwarts…"

Ron tore his glare from Sherlock. He was thankful that John didn't take this badly, because he really enjoyed his company. He still wasn't completely calmed down, but his problem was with Holmes, not John… "I see no reason, why _you _would need to feel sorry. And I wouldn't be opposed to telling you more, just give Harry a call, which reminds me," he turned the note from Miss Blackwell to the other side and took out a quill, as well as bottle of ink, from his pocket (John was once again reminded about all the stuff he saw him take out the previous day) and somehow managed to write on the paper. "He promised you his number, but forgot when he… had other things on his mind." They all knew what he was referring to. It was just too bad that Sherlock didn't take it to heart.

"Right," said John, pocketing the paper. He was glad, that Ron found it in himself to remember this – he wouldn't have been surprised if he deliberately forgot, especially since they wouldn't have asked. "Good luck with your brother."

"Yeah. Last time he asked for my help, I got stuck with an elephant trunk for five hours. Here is hoping this time it will go better. Have a nice day, John." The wizard gave the doctor a strained smile, deliberately not paying any attention to the detective. Then he turned away looking around for a good place to apparate. He decided to go down-street and soon disappeared around the corner.

When John shot his friend a disapproving glance, Sherlock just ignored him and took out his phone.

* * *

**Woo hoo... go Ron! :) We'll be seeing him again (sooner than you think) don't worry**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you all for reading and for your patience... and for the lovely reviews of course :D**

**(SeverusDmitri18) Well, here it is.**

**(Sailor Celaeno) :) Glad you think so. **

**(forTheLoveOfHades) Well, I think he lasted pretty long :)**

**(Sarah) Thank you :) Technically he lasted just few hours of one morning in Sherlock's presence, but I still think he deserves a pat on the shoulder for trying. **

**(Erydanes) :D I know he is... he will get better. **

**(mervoparkite) Yeah, I think so too... keeping the anger bottled up can do bad things to one's health... that and Sherlock sometimes needs to be told off. **

**(lulu) Thanks :) Yeah, things will get better. Imagine no longer :) George & John chapter is here :D I try to get in bits and pieces of HP history whenever possible, so I am sure it will be here and there... **

**(0Harry. J. Potter0) Thank you :)**

**(BlueMoonMaples) I'm glad Ron had that rant too :D I will see what can I do. **

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"Well, Sherlock, this morning was a brilliant display of how you _do not_ behave around people," started John once they were halfway on their way to Charing Cross.

Up until this point neither of them refused to start a conversation and the only words spoken were to the cabbie, when Sherlock told him where he should take them.

"You're lucky Ron's loyalty to Harry is stronger than his desire to punch you in the face, because that's what you deserved. Tomorrow you will apologize and hope this will not have any consequences," continued the doctor. "I'm not even sure if I really want to go to the Alley, after all this."

"Don't be ridiculous, John. I doubt this diminished your curiosity about everything," replied Sherlock.

"You don't even feel guilty, do you?" questioned John.

"And what will that accomplish," said the other man. "I will apologize, if it is necessary, but not once did I say something that is untrue. He is mediocre, easily overlooks what should be obvious and doesn't want us along. Probably thinking wizards can do everything better because they have magic, not even trying to learn basics about us."

John gaped. "You can't possibly think that! So stop behaving like a bastard and if you have nothing decent to say at least shut up." He ran his hand over his face tiredly. "And I _really_ do wonder why he doesn't want _you _along. It's _so_ hard to find a reason. Because, he really was okay whenever you were gone. That should tip you off! He is not against this idea, he is just afraid how the whole thing will end up. Even Mycroft! Weren't you listening? It's something that goes against their very laws; of course even those who support it would be wary! And if you must know, you aren't really helping with your attitude."

"I will apologize," repeated Sherlock dully.

It was useless. Unless the man himself admitted it was uncalled for, he wouldn't be moved. John just sighed.

The rest of the ride went in silence. Soon they found themselves in front of the familiar pub, where Hannah greeted them just like the day before. They didn't stay inside for long and after the entrance was opened for them, John looked around.

"Well, Apothecary then?" he asked somewhat blankly. His enthusiasm for this trip was marred by that day's events.

"Bank first, I believe," replied Sherlock and started walking towards the familiar white building.

"Right," nodded John as he caught up with him. "Do you have money you can exchange there? I didn't see you take much cash when we left this morning."

"I took one of Mycroft's cards I have and stopped at cash machine when I was with Agatha," explained Sherlock.

"So you were always planning to come here today?" asked John.

"Not really," replied Sherlock. "I wasn't sure how the day would go, but I needed to take it, just in case."

"And it went just perfectly, didn't it?" muttered John.

"What was that?" asked Sherlock as he started moving again.

"Nothing. Listen, would you mind if I just look around, until you're back? We'll bump into each other somewhere, it's not like I need money. I'm not buying anything."

The detective stopped and frowned at his friend. "What if you get lost? We should keep together; we still don't know this place that well."

"It's an Alley, Sherlock, not a labyrinth, I think I can manage," retorted John dryly. "We also wouldn't have this problem if you hadn't driven the wizard that accompanied us away."

"He would still have left. Don't you remember, he needs to see his brother," Sherlock reminded him mockingly. "So if you think…"

"His brother has a wizarding shop!" John lost his patience. "Where do you think it's located?! In Scotland?!"

This was new information for Sherlock. "And he refused to take us despite apparating here himself?!"

"And you're surprised?" asked John exasperated. "So do you mind?"

"Not really," shrugged Sherlock, "if you need to find me later, I will either be in the Apothecary or in the wand shop…"

"Or the one with cauldrons," added John, though Sherlock apparently didn't agree.

"That would be just a quick stop. I will undoubtedly spend more time in the establishments I mentioned."

"Why can't we just meet in the Leaky Cauldron?" questioned the doctor.

"We can," agreed the detective and left John standing not far away from the entrance.

He wandered aimlessly for a short period of time, before deciding to enter the sport shop he was eyeing the day before.

The shop assistant was helping some man pick an appropriate toy broomstick for his kid, so John had time to look around uninterrupted. It was very interesting inside. Colourful badges and scarves supporting different teams. Red balls (which he recalled being called Quaffles), though the other two kinds were nowhere to be seen. Various broom-care products, either displayed as stand-alones or in kits. Compasses and other accessories and, most importantly, different broomstick models. John suspected there were a lot more, but people would need to choose from a brochure, because there was no way they could get dozens of brooms into this cramped shop.

And then there was one broom in a showcase with a golden plate. It read _Firebolt –_ _Ginny Potter nee Weasley, Holyhead Harpies, 2000 – 2004, Chaser_.

It was a beautiful broom. Even John, who until recently regarded those as a household tools, could see that; but it was also obviously used a lot. Some of the twigs were sticking out and the handle had lost the shine other, new, brooms displayed.

"Admiring the best?" asked the shop assistant when he waddled towards John. "We have it on loan for a few months. Till the end of July, actually. Otherwise the Harpies keep this one locked up. We have another famous one in our other shop in Hogsmeade. But that's the point, the company got it from the teams as a promo. Spudmore is going to release a renovated version during the summer. Potter is one of the people who was asked to write reviews, so she will get her hands on one of the first ones that will be produced. I've got to say, folks are pretty excited about this. It's the biggest deal in Quidditch right now. The teams and people are ready to place orders as soon as possible. But if they are going to make them in such quantities and at the same price as the old versions, not many will get them."

John was just nodding along, not understanding everything, but still getting the main idea. He just wondered how to ask more about Ginny Potter and not sound too ignorant. But that was unnecessary, because the man didn't need any prompting.

"I tell you, it was just bad luck that England didn't get the cup when she was in representation. But still, finals, right? Not everyone makes it that far."

"Yeah, brilliant," agreed the doctor.

"So you wanted something?" asked the shop assistant.

"Oh, no, thank you, I was just looking," said John hurriedly.

"Very well." said the man, "If you change your mind, I'll be over there." He pointed towards different section and soon enough John heard him explaining to a young woman what the difference was between two brands of polishing wax.

He didn't stay for long after that and left the shop, wondering where to go now. He could have looked for Sherlock, but he didn't want to yet, so he decided to just walk around and observe the hustle and bustle of the street. It was surprisingly enjoyable and it helped to clear his mind. But it didn't last for too long.

Soon he came across a very eye-catching shop that clashed with everything around and yet it unmistakably belonged on this street and nowhere else. To his surprise, this must have been the shop Ron talked about, because how could it not be, when the name said 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' in giant letters.

He wanted to turn around and leave, but as luck would have it a window opened and a ginger head stuck out and beckoned him in. Ignoring the 'closed' sign, John obeyed and closed the door behind him carefully.

He needed a moment to get used to the shop – it was a whirl of mismatched colours, and shelves upon shelves of fantastic things he longed to inspect more closely. The man who invited him in must have been the brother Ron mentioned, though he was stockier than the lanky Auror, the resemblance was still there (as was the red hair that framed his face). His clothes were as fascinating as the shop itself – from the purple and green hat down to the ridiculous green (leather?) boots.

"Hi," he said. "I am George Weasley, businessman extraordinaire. You are John Watson, right?"

The doctor nodded. "How do you know?"

"Oh, I am also a mind-reader," waved George carelessly. "Right now you're thinking how you've never seen such an amazing place as this. But now, please close the window, we're testing new materials here and we don't want the competition to get a whiff of those, do we?"

John just looked at him funnily, but moved towards the window. Just before he closed it a bug flew out of curtain, as if it knew it would be trapped inside if it waited for a moment longer.

"_I_ told him," he heard suddenly and as he whirled around he saw Ron emerging from back of the shop with a giant box in his hands. He put it, none too gently, on the floor and his eyes landed on his brother. "Please, get rid of that ridiculous thing. I have no idea why you bought it."

"Right. Spoil everything, why won't you? Don't mind that I'm trying to make an impression here." George rolled his eyes as he put the hat on the counter. "And try to be more careful. That's my living you just dropped. You won't be amused when I have you repay the damage."

If John wasn't a retired soldier, he wouldn't be able to maintain a neutral facade. When the man removed the hat, it moved his hair in such way that revealed he was missing an entire ear on the right side (instead there was just a gaping hole), before it fell back in place.

Ron just shook his head and addressed the doctor, "I saw you and thought I would call you over. You can get a good look around now that we're closed for today. Pretty neat, huh?"

"You're bragging? About _my_ shop? Brother dear, if I was not horrified at the means you would use to boost your popularity, I would be honoured," commented George smirking. "But using my poor innocent shop like this…"

"As if I haven't helped here," retorted Ron lightly. "Some of these products are even my idea."

"Point taken," said George. "So, how can our humble selves be of assistance?" he asked, once again turning his attention to John. "Oh, I know. Ronniekins –"

"Stop it!" protested the man in question.

"– enjoyed those… gummi?" he took out a jar with jelly shaped in the form of various animals and offered it to John, who hesitated for a moment, but took one out and plopped it into his mouth.

"Good choice," approved George. "Ron took out a fish and then refused to tell me what he thought. So? Good?"

John wanted to thank him for the candy and say that the apple flavour was rather tasty, but when he opened his mouth, he croaked not unlike a frog. His hands flew to his throat and he looked at both men accusingly.

"Joke shop, remember?" Ron reminded him. "It lasts for one sentence. You can talk now."

"That was…" tried John and to his delight, his voice was really back.

"Yes?" prompted him George.

"… amazing," he finished. "But next time warn me."

"I'm going to give you a warning. Be wary of everything you find here," Ron told him and listed a few items as John listened bemusedly. "The food? Be glad you just croaked. You could have ended up vomiting. Or with a tongue the length of a snake. Those binoculars and telescopes? They punch people. The quills and ink? At the least they won't write properly, at worst they will cause small explosion…"

"Ouch," the elder brother faked a hurt expression. "So much for your prankster pride. So Mr Watson…"

"He's a doctor – Muggle Healer," corrected him Ron.

"Dr Watson, then," said George, "would you mind me asking… Where did you leave that bat out of hell that Ronnie here complained about? I was looking forward to meeting him."

John really didn't like the evil glint in the man's eyes, as he glanced towards some silvery instruments lying on nearby shelves. "You mean Sherlock?"

"No idea," admitted the wizard. "Do I?" he turned to his brother.

"Yeah, well… I was mad. Sorry I forgot to mention the name as I rambled," replied Ron sarcastically.

"Yes, because he would have the names you _did_ mention only if his parents hated him a lot," agreed George, then added solemnly. "You're forgiven. Don't forget next time though. Imagine if I came across some other tall, dark and broody individual and started telling him off while he didn't have the foggiest what I'm talking about."

"Or you can just stop poking your nose into my business," suggested the younger redhead.

"Ah-ha! But you dragged me into it, when you started complaining. And it's my brotherly duty to nose around!"

"Oh, bother," murmured Ron, but he didn't seem all that unhappy.

"I really am sorry for all that happened earlier," said John once again, though of course he knew it meant nothing, until Sherlock took the blame too.

"Not your fault," replied Ron. "Though, please, keep your friend away from me if possible. Where is he anyway?"

"He went to exchange some money and then find stuff for his experiments, I guess. So we split up. Apothecary doesn't sound that appealing to me," replied the blonde man.

Suddenly the other brother interrupted them. "Well, Ron, enough of this chattering. I don't need you to laze around. We need to have this done, so would you mind taking that box back. I noticed you took the wrong one. I told you the one with _blue_ lid, not the green one. And after the work is done, we can finally have some lunch."

"I'm going. I'm going," grumbled Ron, picking the box again. "Though you definitely didn't say that."

"Word of advice, Dr Watson," George turned to John as soon as Ron left, his jolly demeanour gone for the moment. "Make sure that your friend stops before it's too late, or this might not end well."

John blinked, not expecting something like that.

"That's not a threat," explained the wizard, after seeing the man's confusion, "but make sure your friend doesn't make the mistake of attacking Ron again. He is as much war hero as Harry, along with a lot of other people. _A lot of people_ who won't stand for this kind of attitude. I would be first to admit that Ron may have his moments, but I haven't seen him so upset over something like this for a long time. Tell Mr Holmes that his words were both unnecessary and uncalled for."

"Of course," said John miserably. Great, now thanks to Sherlock's behaviour, the whole Weasley family would look at them differently. There was not really any reason not to expect it. If the two brothers shared this, within the day all of the others would know it too. He remembered the nice older wizard, who was so enthusiastic about meeting them in Harry's office and wondered what he would think after today…

"Is _this_ the one?" shouted Ron as he was returning with even bigger box than he had before.

"Yeah," nodded George, his previous sombre mood gone. Suddenly he smiled at others wickedly. "So who wants to be the first one to try out this newest addition to the line of supreme WWW products? It's an improvement of one of the oldest ones. We're keeping those too, of course, but these should get popular in no time!" He opened the box with flourish and took out one of the things that were stored inside. It was a simple, innocent looking bottle. "It shouldn't be dangerous at all. This is supposed to be one of the final tests."

Ron and John just looked at each other and simultaneously backed away.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you all for reading. I'm really sorry that I am updating so sporadically now, but life is incredibly busy nowadays (curses!) :( What I would give for time-turner... too bad they are all smashed :/**

**(SeverusDmitri18) I wish I could update more often. **

**(forTheLoveOfHades) Not really :) Well, since Sherlock won't be in the shop, he can't prank him directly, though I am sure it's possible some of his products will reach Sherlock ;)**

**(creepyLotRfangirl55) Sherlock is too busy figuring out how hard is to blend in the wizarding world when he is all alone and too stubborn to visit the shop where Ron might be... and don't worry, George actually haven't offered John and Ron anything explosive ;)**

**(Maia Longhorn) Thank you. I like Ron and his family too :) You're right about the potions, Harry and Ron both told him about it (ok, Harry more or less shrugged it off, thinking there is no point in arguing since at most Sherlock can only mix all the stuff together), hope this chapter will clear it all out - and Sherlock won't be amused :) It's a lovely idea about the chess match... maybe they can play when they (finally) start getting along... it would keep Sherlock from being too bored (and I am sure John would be eternally grateful to Ron if he managed to engage Sherlock in activity that doesn't consist of shooting the walls)**

**(titan616) thanks, I am glad you think so :)**

**(Sarah) Thank you**

**(Guest) Thank you and I apologize, if there are any mistakes. The fic has beta readers though, but of course if you find anything that seems incorrect, just let me know (because I don't t know where to look otherwise) and it will be looked over and corrected. **

**(KG86) Well, he is back now, because we need to know how he is faring (hint: definitely worse than John)... Ah... it's nothing too new, I assure you :) **

**(FotoDi) :D I am so glad. I definitely have fun with this, even though I have less time now. I never really thought how Hogwarts school system should work to be honest, but Culture Class might certainly be helpful **

**(lulu) Honestly? There is no visit to Burrow planned right now, but that means absolutely nothing since there was no second visit to Diagon Alley planned when I started with this story... so who really knows if they will go there. Sherlock will see in this chapter that perhaps getting along with Weasleys will be preferred over being a prat (even if it might be only for convenience sake at first). **

**(Hi. Pot. And. News) I am glad you gave the story a chance, though I think it's rather fair to warn you that Ginny will be among the characters that are scheduled to appear at one point or another, though of course it's Harry and Ron who are the main wizarding characters. I will try to pay attention to that when things get 'rambly' :) Thank you. **

**(Applejax XD) Well, he is... shopping (with varying degree of success). Yeah, I am sure they would :D**

**(PaperPen. Inc) Couldn't get it out sooner :(**

**(cflat) Thank you :) It should be soon in their timeline, but considering my updating pace is atrocious, it might be some time till I get there. James is 8, Al (and Rose) 7 and Lily 5 (and it should actually be the age they would have in canon in 2013 - or close to that)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 23**

As Sherlock left John behind, he wondered about his words. Maybe he really should have kept things to himself. Alienating Weasley would not play to his advantages in the wizarding world, that's why he tried to stop him from leaving. But the man was getting on his nerves about as much as Anderson did, even though there was virtually nothing those two had in common.

He decided that his friend was right; a quick apology would definitely be helpful in this situation, even if it was something he usually didn't do, but that would need to wait.

Right now he found himself in the bank with Goblins. If he was to be honest with himself, he was definitely feeling wary (and that was about as much as he was willing to admit about the impact their ruthless and calculating appearance had on him). But of course, no one who saw him would be able to guess that. He didn't blame John in the slightest for getting out of visiting this place again.

He tried to make the transaction as fast as possible, but of course the Goblin that was assigned to him, went through the money Sherlock wanted to exchange _very_ carefully and thus extremely slowly. As if he would try to swindle them!

He barely managed to stop himself from drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently, but then after all that excruciating time, it was over and he left the building with pockets full of gold and silver.

First, he wanted to find the wand shop. He knew it would be a long shot, trying to persuade the seller to give a wand to him, but he was certain that he would manage it with the right kind of argument. He just hoped that he had enough money for that. John would surely disapprove, but there was no need for him to ever see the wand.

Before he managed to locate the place he was looking for, he discovered a side alley that was directly across Gringott's. It was curious that Harry didn't mention it the day before, and what was more, people that walked around there, did so quickly, deliberately looking ahead. It also had a sort of dark and gloomy look, the exact opposite of sunny and spacious Diagon Alley so Sherlock concluded that a shady business might flourish there. (The name – Knockturn Alley – didn't speak in favour of the place either.) But he still wondered what it looked like further in and almost entered, his curiosity winning against his better judgment, but at the end he decided it was not worth the problems it might cause and returned to his previous plan. After a quick search he found the wand shop – Ollivander's – further behind the bank.

For a place that was so important, it was rather shabby looking and the simple old cushion with a single wand on display was downright pathetic. The detective was really expecting something more grandiose.

But no matter, maybe he wouldn't even need to cajole the person inside to accept his money all that much. He entered without hesitation, the bell announcing his presence.

An elderly wizard pinned him down with the most unusual pair of silvery eyes, upon entering, which unnerved the detective quite a lot. Usually it was him who managed make people nervous with a single stare.

"Good afternoon," said the man politely. "How may I help you?"

"Good afternoon," replied the detective. "I wish to get a wand."

"I must admit I do not have many customers around this time of year. Looking at you, it is a bit late for your first wand, and yet I do not remember selling you any. Have you perhaps purchased it elsewhere and were not satisfied, Mr…?

"Holmes," replied Sherlock uneasily. The man had yet to blink.

"Well, what is your wand hand?" he was asked as the man fished out a tape measure.

"I –" started Sherlock, but decided that he wouldn't be able to keep the charade at all. "I am a Muggle and…"

Ollivander's eyes widened. "By Merlin! Do not touch anything," he cried.

The dark-haired man was rather surprised by this violent reaction. He never expected the elderly gentleman to possess such agility as he displayed when he snatched two or three forgotten boxes, so Sherlock wouldn't even be able to dream about getting to them. Only when everything was safely out of reach, did the man speak again.

"May I ask what are you doing in Diagon Alley? You do understand, this is rather unusual situation and I need to know more before proceeding in any way."

"I was called in by Harry Potter to help with an Auror investigation," explained the detective sourly and fished out his silvery plate, using it for the first time since he received it. "I _am_ allowed into all magical places."

"Ah," nodded the man, inspecting the piece of metal carefully. "Harry Potter, of course. He still refuses to reveal how he can use his wand after it was damaged so much. I saw it with my own eyes! Broken in half! And yet…" he lamented as if Harry did him a great injustice. "Holly, with a phoenix feather as a core and eleven inches long. An unusual combination, but then Mr Potter is an unusual man, wouldn't you agree? I said great things could be expected from him, and it seems that he _still_ manages to surprise. Now he is making changes to the Statute of Secrecy? Not just anyone would attempt that."

"That is all very well, but I don't understand why you took away those wands," said Sherlock. "I am prepared to pay any price. If you would just sell me one…"

"Absolutely not!" replied Ollivander, glaring at the younger Muggle for even daring to suggest something like that. "Do you know what a wand is?" He didn't give Sherlock any time to answer though. "It's a magical instrument carefully crafted to be a vessel for an individual's magic. And what is more, the wand needs to bond with its owner. Muggles cannot possess such an instrument, because they have no magic. The reaction of the wand would be less than pleasant. So, if you do not wish for injury, or even worse, you should not touch any wand."

"But…" protested Sherlock as he snatched the plate from the man and pocketed it.

"I do not jest." Ollivander raised a warning finger. "Forget about this notion, wands are simply not created to be held by non-magical beings."

The detective nodded tersely, knowing very well that he lost. "Of course, I understand." He turned around to leave…

"However," Sherlock stopped in his tracks, upon hearing the man's voice, "I can help you when you decide to pursue theoretical knowledge. Not many wish to invest their time in such meticulous work as wandmaking, but you do seem like a man who appreciates small details that create a bigger picture. If that is the case, and you decide to read up on the subject, I can help clear up some points for you. Of course, there are still secrets that I refuse to reveal to anyone."

"I will… think about it," replied Sherlock and left the shop in hurry.

This was not going as well as he expected. It seemed that it would be for the best if he didn't reveal that he is a Muggle to anyone else. Though, if wands really reacted violently to people without magic, and worked only as a vessel, then he had no use for it except for quenching his scientific curiosity, which left him wondering how a piece of wood could behave like that – it _must _have some sort of magic of its own, otherwise it would be impossible.

He wondered what other limitations he would encounter later. Clearly the spells worked on Muggles the same way they worked on wizards. It was possible to use Apparition (as long as someone magical took them) and the Floo method as well; otherwise Harry wouldn't have offered it to them…

Speaking of Harry, he felt foolish now, for trusting him that he could try potions. It should have been obvious when he gave in too easily. The final stages always required the use of a wand, so all he could do now was mix things in a pot and at most destroy the ingredients in the process. And why was Weasley thinking it might end up as a disaster? If anything, it would be a failure, nothing else.

But that still wouldn't stop him from trying to learn about the properties of all the ingredients he read about. Especially the magical ones – he really wanted to get his hands on dragon blood and look at it closely, as well as substances taken from other creatures that he had no idea existed. But even the plants, some of which he knew very well, were sometimes described in a different fashion than he was used to and he wanted to inspect them now that he knew about their magical use as well.

If he couldn't go about it the wizarding way, he would use all the scientific means he had at hand. Why he had abandoned this approach before was beyond him. He must have been too overwhelmed by magic itself.

With this in mind he decided to skip Potage's Cauldron Shop and go directly to the Apothecary, which he remembered was not far away from the Leaky Cauldron's entrance.

Soon enough he was greeted not only by a shop assistant, but also by a stench that forced him to wrinkle his nose (which was saying something, considering he was used to unpleasant smells, visiting the morgue and working with chemicals quite often).

It seemed that unlike in the wand shop, he wouldn't have a big problem making his purchase here. When his turn came, after a woman that entered before him, he listed a few items that he had his mind set on and the shop assistant gladly got him everything he asked for. Despite that he blundered a lot, which irritated him to no end. There were items he hadn't read about in the books yet and when he asked for them, he wasn't always correct with naming them – that was mostly true with ingredients kept at safe distance from customers, so he had a harder time reading the small notes that identified them.

But things went more or less smoothly until Sherlock managed to ask about dragon eggs (thinking he would be able to have look at it along with blood and liver he managed to buy without problem), which earned him a flat look at first. Thankfully, the shop keeper took it as a joke (the detective went with it when he understood that it was one of the Non-Tradeable Materials that people only get on black market) and let it slide, shaking his head about such nonsense request.

Sherlock then proceeded to pay for his purchase and left the shop, as he had no intention of making more mistakes and letting the man figure out he was not a wizard. What if he took back everything he sold to him?

Once he was outside, he figured there wasn't anything else to do, because he didn't have any intention to visit the broom shop that fascinated John so much yesterday, the pet shop, the one with clothes, or the Weasley _joke_ shop he glimpsed. (_What a business_, he rolled his eyes…) There was simply nothing else that was worthy of his attention, so he decided to head back to the Leaky Cauldron, somewhat selfishly hoping that John had a similarly horrid time.


End file.
